The Life We Left Behind
by Kaatje7
Summary: Snarry Post Ootp Time travel. Harry takes a wishing potion on his birthday. Next morning he wakes up to discover that he is a wheelchair bound professor with a dark mystery lover and an even darker past. That wasn't what he wished for was it? Can he get back to his life? Does he even want to? HP/SS
1. Another Summer At The Dursleys

Story Summary : This story will be HPSS slash, with a bit of mentioned HPDM. **No MPREG**. This story is not a sequel or prequel to my previous stories and takes place immediately after Ootp.

Disclaimer: Not mine humph, do I get three wishes?

Harry spends another summer with the abusive Dursleys following Sirius' death. He takes a wishing potion on his birthday with unexpected and dramatic effects. Was it even a wishing potion at all? How will Harry find his way back to the life he left behind and what will he discover along the way.

**x**

**Chapter One: Another Summer At The Dursleys**

Harry managed to run back up to his sparse bedroom but the lights in the entire house were still flickering and the walls were still shaking. He managed to throw the door shut behind him without causing any more noise than had been caused already and threw himself down on his bed. He was seething and angry, his mind racing with thoughts; he was still burning with the rage that had almost burst forth from him.

Harry had reached the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts and he was determined that he wasn't going to get expelled at this late stage and if it turned out that it couldn't be avoided, then he was doubly determined that it would be because he had been threatened by Voldemort and not because of some stupid fight with his pathetic Muggle relatives.

Harry knew that if he performed any more out of school magic then he definitely wouldn't see Hogwarts ever again, he had already ran out of luck in that area. Harry thought that he would rather give himself up to Voldemort than have to spend an entire year with the Dursleys. Then he wondered if he really did believe that, could he give himself up just to be free of his awful Muggle relatives. He had to give the idea up as ridiculous but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't disappear from his mind altogether.

Harry's determination to remain a student at Hogwarts hadn't, however, stopped the words 'Avada Kadavra' from hovering on his lips as he tried to do the washing up downstairs barely minutes ago, and he had no trouble with the conviction behind the words. Harry had only been back with his Muggle relatives for a few weeks and already he felt as if he was at bursting point. He didn't know how he was meant to survive another two.

It wasn't as if Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon had spoken to him any differently to how they usually did. It wasn't as if Dudley had changed one little bit in his attitude towards his cousin. Harry knew that it was he himself who had changed, but there was little that he could do about that.

He had returned to the Dursleys so soon after Sirius's death, feeling as if his heart had been cut out, separated from his friends in addition to the wizards that he was still extremely annoyed at. He had been left alone with his anger bubbling inside of him till he could feel that he would soon burst. Being a wizard who couldn't use his wand, he felt like he would quite literally burst and he had just performed a pretty good demonstration of how close he actually was.

It seemed that the Dursleys had had plenty of time to think about Harry Potter and his blood relationship to them and they now knew that he could no more leave them than they could throw him out. This had led to an even deeper level of resentment at the fact that he was still breathing, coupled with a resurgent lack of fear despite the threats they had received from the Order. They quite simply couldn't help themselves.

It hadn't helped that Dumbledore had written to the Dursleys explaining that Harry was as good as dead if he left the house alone. It didn't help either that the Headmaster had told them about Sirius's death; probably begging for their understanding while he grieved. All Dumbledore's well-meaning missal had given them had been more ammunition to torment him with.

Harry wasn't really helping his own situation he realised, he could have reported the Dursleys to an Order member as they were always there even if he hardly ever saw them, taking it in shifts, patrolling outside the house every minute of the day. Was it mostly pride that stopped him from doing it, Harry wondered to himself, or was it that every time he managed to spot one of them from his bedroom window it was Snape.

The hated Professor probably thought that he moved so stealthily but Harry had seen Snape wandering around outside on numerous occasions, occasionally he had even seen him going into the house over the road which was very sloppy spy work. Harry had to wonder if Snape wasn't getting careless in addition to his usual faults. Harry didn't know how Snape dared to show himself anywhere near where he was living after the events at the end of the school year.

Dumbledore had insisted that Snape had been trying to help but Harry didn't think that it was much of a coincidence that Snape had been looking for him nowhere near where he actually was the night that Sirius died. He had tried to give every appearance of looking for him but Harry wasn't at all fooled.

No doubt Snape was out there in Privet Drive now on Dumbledore's specific orders, not because he felt any kind of wish to watch out for him. He was probably reporting to the Death Eaters as well, Harry thought bitterly, no reason why he couldn't as long as he reported to Dumbledore first.

Harry switched the light off so that he could see better but he couldn't see Snape and felt a bit let down. Of course it didn't mean that he wasn't there, only that his black clothes were concealing him properly for a change.

Harry stayed at the window and began to think about Ron and the fact that it was his birthday in the morning. Ron would send him something and so would the others but it was Ron's present that he looked forward to the most. Harry hoped that the owls would be able to get to him. He thought about Ron a bit more and then he started to think about Draco as well.

Harry stood up and went back to his bed, picking up the history book again and forcing himself to read, he was determined that he was going to stop himself from thinking about Draco in THAT way, it was just too disturbing and wrong and he needed to be able to face the Slytherin with all the dislike he should still be feeling, blushing was just not an option.

Harry sighed, at least that little secret was something that nobody knew about and thus the Dursleys could not torture him with it.

Harry, still simmering with anger, decided to get into bed, he knew he wouldn't get to sleep right away, he didn't feel at all tired, but it was late and he didn't want to sit Snape watching out of the window any longer. He took the book that contained the pictures of his parents out from below the floorboard and crawled underneath the covers, pulling them over his head. He was sick of history but still wanted to seek comfort in the past.

Tomorrow was his birthday, Harry reminded himself again as he looked at the picture of himself as a toddler with his mother holding him and his father standing close by. At least there would be letters and presents to look forward to, Harry thought, if the Dursleys didn't find a way of stopping them getting through that was.

ccccc

Not being able to sleep very well had its advantages Harry thought as he heard his Uncle Dursley thundering up the stairs at six o'clock the next morning. He had been hammering on the front door downstairs making sure that the letterbox was barricaded shut.

Vernon Dursley burst into Harry's room and without saying anything to him began to nail strips of wood over the window frame on the opening side of his window. Harry sat quietly and let him, feeling not in the least bit bothered by his uncle's actions.

"There," He announced with vicious glee, "That should make sure those blasted pigeons can't get through!"

Mr Dursley then left again and Harry had not only managed not to say a word to him but he had also managed not to hex him into oblivion either. Actually Harry still felt relatively happy and quite calm since the 'pigeons' in question had already taken the opportunity of coming an hour earlier, when Harry had chosen to leave the window open all night. Because he had been awake all night too, he now had the underneath of his bed stuffed with presents and Vernon Dursley knew nothing about it. This also of course meant that he was now beginning to feel tired and he had lost the opportunity of going to bed till at least the next evening. Still, Harry thought, his spirits unaffected, it was worth it.

Harry decided that it was probably best if he went down to make the Dursleys' breakfast as usual and pretend that it was just a normal day, then they could see him not receiving his presents and that would cheer them up immensely. He promised himself as he descended the stairs that if he managed to get through the following ordeal then his birthday presents would be extra nice. As Harry reached the bottom of the stairs he began to make some deep, calming breaths.

"Morning," Harry said in a neutral manner as he entered the kitchen.

Vernon Dursley didn't even look up from his newspaper and grunted vaguely. Petunia Dursley gave Harry a disapproving look and pointed to the cooker. Dudley, having been unable to wait was already tucking into one of six chocolate donuts.

Harry turned his head away from his cousin's gluttony and got the bacon and eggs out of the fridge. He thought about his friends and his birthday presents as he cooked, he had been making breakfast for so many years that he hardly needed to concentrate and he didn't make a mess any more thanks to all the punishments he had received in the past for doing so. Harry briefly wondered why Snape's abuse hadn't had the same effect and stopped him making a mess in Potions. Well, truth be told, Snape's shouting wasn't nearly as bad as what the Dursleys had done over the years.

Harry thought about Ron again in particular and then tried to think more about Hermione and the others too. He then thought about Ron again, he was sure that of all the presents the one from him would be the best. Then Harry thought about Draco Malfoy, it was a mistake, a very big mistake.

"What are you smiling about?" Dudley demanded with a mouthful of donut.

"Nothing," Harry replied trying not to sound confrontational in any way and mentally kicking himself for making such a stupid slip.

"Don't speak to Dudley in that manner boy," Vernon snapped from behind his paper.

Harry took another deep breath and didn't look up from the cooking.

"I bet you were thinking about a girl, how pathetic, I bet YOU haven't got a girlfriend yet," Dudley taunted.

Shit, Harry thought, the mistake was promising to turn into perhaps the biggest mistake he had ever made in Privet Drive.

Harry had already heard all about how Dudley had managed to persuade some girl in the village near to his school to go out with him. Harry didn't know how he had managed it, but he even had a photograph, which Dudley had been waving in front of anyone who came close enough, whether they were interested or not.

"Of course that freak hasn't got a girlfriend," Vernon added, "Who would have him?"

"I bet even none of his freaky friends would want to go out with him!" Dudley continued.

"Well, have you got a girlfriend?" Petunia asked primly.

Harry had been dreading being asked a direct question because now he had to answer; if he just ignored them things would be worse. He considered telling them a lie but then they would just ask more questions and then he would never be free to go upstairs. They would keep hounding him until he was making the house shake again.

"No I haven't," Harry replied eventually without looking up, the last thing he wanted to do was explain anything about Cho Chang never mind pretend that it hadn't been the disaster that it had turned out to be. He certainly didn't want to discuss why it had been a complete disaster.

Dudley was ecstatic, "Hah, I knew it!" he yelled, "I bet you've never had one either, I bet you're a poof!"

Yes, Harry thought, smiling enigmatically in front of the cooker that had definitely been the worst mistake to date, in his eyes at least, the Dursleys however were having a wonderful time with it.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Vernon added, "He's a freak in every other way possible!"

"Oh no," Petunia said primly, "Not that as well! It's too much to be born!"

"You can keep your dirty, filthy hands off our Dudley mind you, or you can forget about staying here!" Vernon continued.

Dudley suddenly looked pale, as if just realising that his modesty was seriously at risk and that a little piggy tail was the least of his worries.

The mugs on the mug rack began to rattle and Harry's cheeks flushed bright red.

"I bet they're at it all the time at that school of theirs, him and his friends, don't they have boy only dorms? You know what they say about that sort of thing," Vernon rambled on as Harry flipped an egg over onto the other side with as much concentration as he could muster. He continued to cook hoping that it would distract him sufficiently. However the Dursleys could tell when they had him annoyed and they continued to goad him.

"I have not been doing anything like that with any of my friends," Harry eventually snapped. Unfortunately it was indeed the truth, Harry thought, but not for the want of wishing it was not.

"None of the boys want you either then?" Dudley taunted, laughing at his own joke.

"It's none of your business," Harry snapped as one of the mugs managed to rattle itself off the mug rack and onto the kitchen bench. Harry caught the mug before it ended up on the floor and sat it down on its base.

"Everything about you is our business as long as you stay underneath our roof!" Vernon yelled.

"You had better not be bringing any diseases into my nice clean house!" Petunia squealed with her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I bet your mother and father would have been horrified, I suppose even they would have had some limits regarding freakish behaviour, and that wizard godfather would have been disgusted too, and he's not just a freak but a criminal too. I could see it in his eyes though I only had the misfortune to meet him once, it was in the way he looked at me, it was no surprise at all that murder was on his mind. It might be just as well that he died in time to miss it." Vernon added, not really caring about what Sirius might have thought, he certainly wasn't qualified to make the judgement.

Harry continued to cook while he thought about reminding them about various things including who it was kept the house as clean as it was. He knew that his Uncle Dursley was just trying to wind him up and he tried to stay calm and finish with breakfast. Harry was no longer bothered about whether he would be able to get some food for himself or not, he just wanted to get out of the kitchen.

It was too late though, as Harry fried some more bacon, the kettle made a sizzling noise and then a small pop, Harry had shorted the fuse. Suddenly he was thinking about Sirius again and about how he could have eventually gone to live with him. About how for a short while he had had a proper family, how he had had somebody who cared about him. Somebody he could have eventually talked to about who he was, even though it would have been awkward and difficult. Sirius wouldn't have been ashamed of him, he was sure about it.

Suddenly Harry was running up the stairs to his bedroom and he had left the bacon cooking on the hob completely unattended. He could hear Vernon Dursley hollering up the stairs after him but he didn't care. Tears were burning Harry's eyes and he didn't stop, he didn't think he was capable of stopping. The lights went on and off and Harry could feel the floor beneath him shaking as he ran but he didn't stop.

Harry threw himself down onto his bed and the tears flowed relentlessly, now that he had begun he couldn't stop. He didn't want to, he wanted to be brave and composed but he didn't seem to have any say in the matter anymore.

ccccc

After a while Vernon came to stand outside the bedroom door but he didn't come in, "I want all your chores to be done before I come home from work," He demanded before he went back downstairs and went out to work.

A while after that both Mrs Dursley and Dudley went out to the shops so that, for half an hour at least, Harry was left on his own.

Harry thought that opening his birthday presents might help him cheer himself up, so he pulled all of the packages out from underneath the bed. He had managed to stop crying but his eyes felt puffy and red, he knew that he had to calm down, if his aunt caught him looking upset or if he made anything else happen then he would be in even more trouble.

Harry opened his birthday presents one by one and they did begin to cheer him up. He couldn't go too slowly though because he had to have them all put away again before aunt Petunia and Dudley came back.

Hermione had sent Harry books, which was fairly typical for her and Mrs Weasley had sent him some food, interestingly his parcel contained a rather large chunk of fruitcake with a note that said that it would keep fresh for quite a while. They obviously knew that the Dursleys weren't feeding him properly and Harry wished that they would all forget about the protection thing and just come and rescue him.

There were a few other parcels but Harry saved Ron's till last. There was some Quidditch stuff, magazines with moving pictures; Harry didn't know what he thought about them, whether he would be interested if he might not be able to play. After flicking through for a few minutes though, he realised that he was still very interested in Quidditch and that he was losing track of the time and he needed to get his things put away before any of the Dursleys came back.

There was one more present from Ron; it was a smaller package and when Harry tore the paper off Harry found that it was a small box. He took the lid off and inside was a sealed phial, there was a potion inside and it was crimson in colour, Harry read the label, 'Wishing Potion: Makes three wishes come true with just one mouthful'.

Harry smiled at Ron's rather sweet thought and fervently hoped that none of Ron's brothers had been responsible for brewing it. He looked at the clock and noted that if he didn't drink the potion straight away it would be ages before he was free to come back upstairs to drink it, but then he didn't want to rush things either. He had no choice but to leave it for a while but that didn't mean he couldn't think of what he was going to do with it.

If it was going to work he needed to do it soon enough so that it would all come true before bedtime. More than anything else he wanted to get away from the Dursleys, so he planned to wish for somebody to come and pick him up, taking him away without jeopardising his protection, and then he wanted Ron to like him quite a bit more than just as a friend. Finally he would wish that, if he had to come back to the Dursleys at any point, they at least wouldn't give him any trouble ever again.

Harry was happy that he wasn't tempting fate by asking for too much; he shovelled all his presents back underneath the bed and worked out that he should try to get back upstairs just after he made the evening meal. He was sure that it would work; after all, it wasn't as if he had asked for Voldemort to suddenly implode and it wasn't as if he had asked for Sirius back. Such modest requests where surely within the possibilities of a magical potion.

Mr Dursley was never happy anyway, so, Harry thought, he would still at least be able to tell whether the potion had worked or not without actually setting out to annoy him. If they suddenly left him alone then he would know that he was in for a very good summer. If they didn't, and he was still stuck with the Dursleys for the whole of the summer, then Harry had played it safe just in case.

Harry felt the tears coming back as he thought about Sirius again and about how his dreams of family had died once again that night at the Ministry. There was no point in asking for that situation to be reversed, even as far as the wishing potion was concerned the past was the past and there was nothing to be done about it.

Harry had no choice but to fight his thoughts away again, he had to get his chores done before Mr Dursley came back from work. He had preferred it when all he had felt was disbelief and anger, at least he could still deal with things without falling apart.

Harry decided that it was probably best that he was already doing his jobs by the time Mrs Dursley came back and a quick look out of the window confirmed that she was already on her way up the street. Harry shut his bedroom door behind him and rushed downstairs to get the vacuum cleaner out.

Harry tried to tidy and clean the living room first; he had to do it every day because of Dudley and the food he ate whilst he was watching TV all day. This was also the reason why it was almost impossible to do so. On this occasion Harry managed to only hastily vacuum half of the carpet before Dudley was back from the shops with his mother.

Dudley launched himself into an armchair and turned the TV on with the remote, as soon as Harry saw the picture come on he could feel Dudley's eyes on him.

"Mum!" Dudley shrieked at his mother who was through in the kitchen, "Make Harry stop!"

Petunia Dursley came straight through from the kitchen and Harry had already looked up towards the door, he already knew the outcome to this scenario.

"Harry, let Dudikins watch his TV, why can't you do the upstairs first?" Mrs Dursley said before returning to the kitchen before Harry could protest, not that it would have done any good to say anything anyway.

Harry packed up the vacuum cleaner knowing that Dudley wouldn't be pleased if he did the upstairs either but that Mrs Dursley couldn't be bothered to come upstairs to tell him.

Harry knew that Dudley would be there all day now, he should have got the living room done while they were out like he usually did, now he stood no chance. Harry could see it now, Dudley diving into his first bag of crisps and spreading his crumbs everywhere. Piling more mess on top of yesterday's evening snacks.

Still there was still no point dwelling on it, not if he still had at least two more weeks to get through. Harry suddenly remembered the potion, maybe he didn't have two more weeks to endure, he smiled to himself, and surely Ron wouldn't send him something that might not work. It would be cruel and even if Ron wasn't anything more he was still one of his very best friends, it had to work. Harry couldn't wait to thank Ron in person, especially if he got all of his wishes to come true.

Harry spent the whole day cleaning as usual but at least his thoughts were mostly his own. He spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to get no trouble from the Dursleys at all. He thought about what he was going to do with the rest of his summer once he managed to reach the Burrow with Ron and his family.

Petunia Dursley managed to get her own lunch and Dudley spent all day eating anyway so Harry didn't have to go into the kitchen till it was time to make the evening meal. Harry tiptoed into the kitchen, both his aunt and Dudley were watching their soaps on TV now and he wanted to get as much of the meal prepared in peace as he could. When he was left on his own he was free to eat this and that as he went along.

Harry peeled six large carrots first, he then cut and boiled five of them and ate the sixth one raw as he worked. He then peeled and cut some more vegetables and stole a biscuit out of the biscuit barrel, making sure that the crumbs were thrown into the bin along with the peel. He then filled the dishwasher and scooped up and ate the wasted food as he put each plate in one after the other.

He was only grilling the meat but there was enough time to make a cup of tea. Harry turned towards the kettle, remembering that he had shorted it that morning. He stared at the clean whiteness of the new one and his heart sank, he should have realised earlier, the Dursleys had had to buy something new because of him. This was when things generally got really bad. Harry suddenly didn't feel like having a cup of tea any more.

Harry heard Vernon Dursley pull up outside in his car, he heard the key in the lock as he entered the house. Harry heard Mr Dursley taking his suit jacket off and complaining about the heat, he then went into the living room. Harry decided to take his chance, there was going to be fireworks and he really needed to wish it away.

Harry left the kitchen with the meat still under the grill; it would only take a few minutes anyway. He ran up the stairs and dashed into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He scrambled down onto the floor and grabbed the potion. He could hear Mr Dursley thundering up the stairs already, he pulled the stopper out of the potion phial and drank it all down, reciting his wishes in his head as he did so.

Nothing happened immediately as far as the potion was concerned, Harry was a little disappointed but he supposed that it must have to take time to take effect just like all other potions had to. What worried him more than anything at that moment was the fact that Mr Dursley was now right outside of his door.

Harry dropped the potion phial to the floor as Vernon Dursley hurled the door to his bedroom wide open making it smash against the wall and rattle on its hinges.

"What is the meaning of this boy?" Vernon yelled, "The cooker unattended, the living room is a mess, I warned you."

Harry knew that it was useless to protest; all he could do was hold on until the potion began to work.

"You're over sixteen now, if it wasn't for the threats of those freaky people of yours you would be on the streets fending for yourself. You're old enough to get up to vile acts with your freaky friends and to think, that that law is one of ours, so you're certainly old enough now to be punished like you deserve." Vernon spat at Harry.

Harry had been determined to stand tall but the look in Vernon's eye was making him very nervous indeed. What did he mean? Was he actually trying to say that so far he had been going easy on him? What was it that Vernon had in mind now as a suitable punishment?

Suddenly Vernon lurched forward and grabbed Harry's arm, just like Snape had done when he had caught Harry looking in his Pensieve. Harry struggled against the hold but although he was technically an adult he was still shorter than Mr Dursley and thin even for his age. He was no match for the sheer obese bulk of his uncle. Vernon slammed Harry up against the wall.

Harry felt the breath hammered out of his chest as he impacted with the wall, he tried to struggle, his anger was rising and if he didn't manage to get free by physical means very soon, he knew that he would extricate himself magically.

"You can't do this, they've been patrolling outside, they'll know," Harry attempted to protest.

" I've managed to catch that ruddy bird of yours, and I know how to write your little notes, I know where you keep the ink and the parchment too, bet you didn't know I knew that did you?" Vernon hissed in Harry's ear.

Harry had to admit that he hadn't seen his owl since the morning.

Vernon Dursley put a big fat hand around Harry's throat and began to squeeze, Harry tried to prize him away but his grip was like iron. Vernon brought his free arm back; he clenched his fist and drove it into Harry's abdomen. Vernon let go of Harry then and he gasped for breath, sliding down the wall onto the floor, unable to do otherwise.

Harry tried to pull himself up but he was still gasping for air and his legs had turned to jelly. Harry was stunned, even though he had half suspected that it might happen sooner or later, his uncle had never actually struck him before and even with the threat of the Order members he had now taken that step forward. Vernon made for the door and the stunned feeling drifted away as Harry got his breath back. His anger returned, Vernon might be finished with him but Harry wasn't finished, not by a long shot.

Harry launched himself at his uncle's now retreating back as forcefully as he could and sent him bashing up against the wooden banister, which buckled underneath the weight but by some unfortunate miracle, didn't give way. Vernon swung round with fury in his eyes and planted another first in Harry's abdomen. Harry managed to keep upright and thumped his uncle back with all the strength that he could gather.

Vernon twisted Harry's arm roughly behind his back forcing him to turn round, then used his weight again to slam Harry up against the wall and while he retained the advantage he grabbed him by the throat again.

Harry gasped at the pain; Vernon Dursley was holding his arm in just the right way. He couldn't move and he couldn't resist as Vernon pulled him away from the wall and he was pushed towards the staircase. Harry was pushed into descending several steps and then Vernon gave him one more final push, letting go of his arm as he did so.

Harry had no options at all, he was falling and he tried to grab a hold of the banister but his chest hit the edge of a step and he tumbled over. He kept on falling and tumbling until the wall at the bottom of the steps brought him to an abrupt stop. Vernon then descended the stairs, stepping over Harry as he went and went back into the living room without another word.

At first Harry couldn't move, he just lay as he had fallen at the bottom of the stairs feeling stunned. After a number of minutes, Harry wasn't exactly sure how long, he started to feel as if he could do something, he risked trying to move, his back and ribs hurt from his sudden landing and both his arms were throbbing, one because of the fall and the other because Vernon had twisted it. Harry tried to sit up and then shakily stood up, unwilling to try and pull himself up with his arms. The pain in one arm began to ease a little but Harry jolted his right arm against the wall and a lightning bolt of pain made him feel dizzy and sick. He cradled it against his body to try and ease the pain.

Somehow Harry managed to get himself up onto his feet and back into his bedroom, he could smell the odour of burning meat coming from the kitchen and he could hear the swearing coming from both his aunt and his uncle. He didn't care anymore; all he could feel was pain and anger.

Harry eased himself down onto the bed gently and cursed the potion that Ron had sent him. Was it possible that Ron had brewed it himself and had got some of the ingredients mixed up? So far it appeared to have had the opposite effect to the one that he had been promised.

The pain in the arm that Vernon had twisted was beginning to ease but the other arm still throbbed persistently, if anything it was getting worse no matter how careful he was with it. Harry rested his right arm unmoving in his lap, he didn't want to think that it might be broken because then he would have to do something about it and that something might involve walking out of the door and running into Snape.

Harry wondered if the only thing that had been keeping him with the Dursleys that year was the fact that Snape seemed to have been the most frequently present Order member assigned to assist if anything happened. He would rather start up some kind of weird sado-masochistic relationship with his cousin than go into the street and admit to Snape that his uncle had just beaten him. Harry visualised Dudley on all fours and naked with whip marks all over his back and begging for more, he chuckled a little and then winced as the movement jarred his ribs and his arm.

After a while it got dark and Harry couldn't hear anything other than the TV coming from the living room, the monsters had settled. He managed to pull himself up with one arm and moved over the bed so that he was lying propped up against the wall in darkness. Harry knew that his arm was indeed broken and that he couldn't escape the fact. He knew that he should just forget that it was probably Snape and step outside where he knew that an Order member, albeit a Snapey one, would come for him. He wouldn't have to endure the humiliation long, he would be taken to Hogwarts and Madam Pomfrey would take away his pain, and fuss over him, and mend his arm in no time. He should just go outside, he knew it. He also knew that he wouldn't.

Harry thought uselessly that he was going to get into trouble for not doing his homework since he now couldn't write. He was so tired but he didn't even want to think about how he was going to manage to lie down. He sat propped up against the wall and tried to breath through the pain, he wondered if Snape ever noticed him looking out through the window and would think it odd that he wouldn't be there, Harry wondered if Snape would come to the house to find out why.

The hours passed and although Harry couldn't lie down properly he somehow managed to fall into an uneasy sleep. On the floor, the empty potion phial still lay with the remainder of the potion dripping out of the glass neck and onto the carpet.


	2. A Strange Bedroom

**Chapter 2 A Strange Bedroom**

Harry still felt sleepy but he could see even without opening his eyes that the sun was streaming in through a chink in the curtains. Of course in summer that didn't necessarily mean that it was time to get up but after the previous day's events he rather thought that he had better get an early start.

Harry was lying on his front with the warmth of the sun shining down on his head, he felt relaxed and refreshed, he couldn't remember when he had last woken up feeling so wonderful. Even though he felt perfectly awake he didn't want to move, he wanted to just lie there and savour the moment.

Something was wrong however, Harry couldn't place it straight away but he knew that something was very wrong. He pulled himself up a little and opened his eyes, he looked at the pillow that had been supporting his head, it was soft and white, the cotton had a mercerised sheen to it, and the pillow contained within the cover was plump and firm and literally oozed luxury. He had never experienced a pillow so soft and yet so supportive.

Harry frowned, this was supposed to be his bed at the Dursleys and even the Hogwarts beds didn't have bed linen like that. The only pillowcases he was allowed to use at the Dursleys were the threadbare ones with the hideous seventies flower prints on them and they definitely weren't cotton, mercerised, starched or otherwise. The polyester bedding at the Dursleys didn't really wash that well and always had a permanently musty smell from when they had been stored in the loft; at least his did anyway. Harry flopped back down onto the pillow remembering it should also have been flat and lumpy and reached a hand out towards the bedside table but only found the expanse of more bed. He extended his reach as far as he could stretch and still he didn't reach the edge.

Harry pulled himself up again, he was lying on a nice pillow and he was in a double bed, he was alone but the pillow next to him bore the dint of a recently removed head, the sheets were disturbed on the other side too.

Harry smiled, it was the wishing potion, it must have worked, he thought, he had been transported into bed with another man over night, instead of suffering the Dursleys he would now be spending the summer with a lover. He would be spending the summer with a lover who owned a very nice bed in a very nice bedroom.

The next question Harry had was about who his lover was. He wanted it to be Ron but Harry couldn't escape from the fact that Ron's family couldn't afford expensive bed linen either. Draco could though; he didn't really want it to be Draco but would put up with it for the sake of a summer as long as he hadn't ended up in Malfoy Manor too as a result. Harry reached over to the other pillow and pulled it over. It was cold but there were a few hairs shed upon its surface, Harry tried to look at them to see if they were ginger or blonde.

Harry was dismayed; the hairs were short and dark brown, he wracked his brain trying to think of someone who had such hair and whom he had thought of in a 'go to bed' kind of way. He couldn't think of anyone no matter how hard he tried, and then he found the single grey hair amongst the others. Grey? Harry had a sudden bolt of dread shoot through his body, what kind of wishing potion would give him a lover like that? He was very sure he had never lusted after anybody who had grey hair!

Harry tried to turn over and didn't have much success, he managed to turn his body over but it seemed as if his legs had got tangled in the sheets. Something else was very odd too, the previous day's events had included Vernon Dursley throwing him down the stairs, Harry suddenly remembered, yet he hadn't been reminded of this by the pain in his ribs or his arm, there was in fact no pain at all. He was lying down, half on his back, with his head on a pillow and felt perfectly comfortable. He knew that he should have the pain from a broken arm and cracked ribs, that sort of thing just didn't disappear overnight. Even with a very strong pain potion he shouldn't have been able to turn himself over as far as he had not with his ribs being in the state they had been.

There were a number of possibilities, although he was definitely in a wizard household as there was a picture on the wall and it was moving. Harry tried again to complete the process of turning over by straightening his legs but nothing happened. He could see now that the sheet wasn't tangled at all but lay across him with barely a ripple, it was clear that he couldn't blame his inability to turn over properly on the sheet.

Harry swallowed and tried again, he couldn't even begin to contemplate what it all might mean, and he tried to move his legs again and again but nothing much happened.

"Now what?" Harry spoke to himself, the panic rushing over him. He began to doubt that the potion had been from Ron at all; he had received plenty of other presents from Ron, could it be that he had been unforgivably careless and it hadn't been a wishing potion at all. Had one of his enemies managed to snatch him away from the Dursleys?

He hadn't been beaten or restrained in any way yet he remained stranded in a bed in a location that was quite unknown to him and nobody presumably knew where he was. Quite ingenious of them really, if indeed he had been abducted. Had they expected it to take him longer to figure it out? Harry reached beneath the sheets and prodded one of his legs with a rough fingernail; he could still feel pain there, they just wouldn't move. The Death Eaters wouldn't have needed to torture him or beat him if they had found a way of drugging him into soundless compliance. With strong sedation they had taken him away from the Dursleys and immobilised him, Harry supposed, taken him whilst he was separated from his wand. Having obtained him in an unconscious state they had made sure that he couldn't get away from them no matter what he did. They had healed his wounds and put him to bed in one of their aristocratic beds content in the knowledge that he was helpless. He imagined that he might even find that the bedroom door was unlocked, if he could get there.

Harry began to think about the evidence of his bed companion in a different light, maybe they would not torture him as such but take advantage of him on a nightly basis; perhaps they had already. Harry examined himself but found that there was no tenderness, such strange captors; he felt no pain at all.

Maybe it would be best to try and figure out where he was if he could, Harry thought. He looked up as best as he could and observed the ceiling; it looked like a Hogwarts ceiling though it could have been from any wealthy wizard residence. It was a bedroom of a decent size but he didn't recognise it and the shut curtains obscured the view out of the window.

Somehow, Harry knew, he had to make his escape, he had to try, he had to beat his captors, he just didn't know how. It seemed like getting away from the bed was a good enough place to begin. Harry managed to get his legs untwisted by lifting them with his arms and he consequently noticed that he wasn't wearing the clothes that he had gone to sleep in and he wasn't wearing any pyjamas either. He tried to think what could have happened, had he been rescued from the Dursleys after all? This was just too nice to be abduction surely, but then why would somebody who had rescued him see fit to disable him in this manner, it didn't make any sense. The arguments went round and round in Harry's head and he got nowhere with them. He tried to move his legs again and his failure only served to frustrate and annoy him further.

Whoever had rescued, or abducted, him had also taken all of his clothes off, absolutely ALL of them, Harry noted as he took a quick look underneath the sheet and found that he was completely naked. Would Death Eaters do that to him if they caught him? It seemed equally unlikely that anybody else would have either.

Another thought joined the others and it didn't help clarify anything at all, his ribs and arm were completely healed and even in the Wizarding world such injuries were treated quickly but not that quickly. He would still have expected his arm to ache for a few days yet, even if the bone had been fixed with a wave of somebody's wand. There was also still the question of why he hadn't been put into a bed on his own, who was it that had decided that it was a good idea to sleep alongside him? It certainly wasn't any of his friends, not with that much grey hair. He didn't know anybody who had gone half grey from dark brown, including all of the Death Eaters of his acquaintance and he only knew one person whose hair had been that dark at all. And why wasn't he wearing any bloody pyjamas? He shook his head as if that might help, he knew his thoughts were going round in circles but he didn't know what else he could do.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and found that although it was just as messy as usual it was also several inches longer than he would have expected.

Harry froze with his hand still tangled in his tatty hair, longer hair changed things a lot; that wiped all his other ideas away in an instant. None of the scenarios he had come up with so far would have made his hair grow longer. Why would somebody who had rescued him or captured him or whatever, why would they do that? Well they wouldn't have done, so there had to be another reason for it.

Harry looked underneath the covers again; he had to know if anything else was different, it was then that he saw the scars. Harry dropped the sheet back down over his legs. Calling the scars on his legs 'scars' was a bit of an understatement.

Harry tried to force himself to carry on thinking. If he had had any fresh injuries, he could have attributed them to the Dursleys or could have assumed that Death Eaters had captured him and had inflicted them on him whilst he was unconscious; the scars on his legs were healed though. The scars were thick and deep, pink coloured valleys gouged in his flesh forever by injuries that had occurred a very long time ago. His legs weren't the same shape as they had been the day before; they weren't the same shape as each other. It wasn't just the flesh that was damaged; he could tell where the skin only just covered the bone, on his knees and lower legs, that the bones had been broken too. The fact that they were a little bit more hairy than he remembered was a minor detail that hardly seemed to matter next to everything else.

Harry had to wonder if the Dursleys had beaten him so badly that he couldn't remember what had happened and had been unconscious all of the time since he was rescued. If so, then why was he not in the hospital wing with Poppy attending to him. And why had the only injuries he remembered having, apparently disappeared? Had he been lying unconscious so long that everything had healed as much as it could? Whatever was he going to do about Voldemort in this state? He surely couldn't walk; he couldn't even turn over in bed with ease.

Panic engulfed him, Harry wanted to know what the hell had happened and he wanted to know immediately. There was no one around to supply any answers though. He was on his own and somehow he wasn't even himself any longer.

Harry wracked his brain trying to find out when it had all started to go wrong, he now knew that he hadn't been careless, he remembered that the present from Ron had been labelled in Ron's own hand and delivered by Ron's own owl, he had taken it from the claws of the owl and he couldn't believe that Ron would play a prank like THIS. He just didn't understand it. All he had wanted from the wishing potion had been a deeper relationship with Ron in the coming year and a bit of peace from his relatives, he hadn't asked for much. Harry decided that he officially hated his life; what now appeared to be left of it.

With great difficulty Harry managed to sit up and he pulled his legs over the side of the bed with his arms. Once sat on the edge of the bed with his feet touching the floor Harry tried to figure out what he was going to do next. He looked about the room but he couldn't see anything that would help him. He knew that Muggles used wheelchairs and crutches and he couldn't see any of those but he couldn't see what any wizard equivalent would be either. There was an armchair by his bed but it was too big to go through the doorway, even if he could get it to levitate.

On the chair however Harry found some clean clothes folded up and piled up in the order in which he should put them on. He leant over and pulled the clothes over onto the bed and pulled his legs back up onto the bed too, he didn't feel too safe leaning over to get dressed. He had decided to get dressed, at least then he wouldn't end up shuffling about on the floor completely naked.

As Harry pulled a white shirt over his head he noticed that his forearms were nicely muscled, they certainly weren't his. Harry inspected his body, his chest was rippled with muscles too and so were his upper arms, he had to entertain another possibility, that the potion had switched his body for somebody else's and vice versa. That however well meaning Ron was, he had got the potion very wrong, not too much of a stretch of the imagination now that Harry thought about it. Maybe Ron had been kidnapped and made to do it. The facts certainly seemed to fit that scenario more than any other so far. Whoever this body belonged to before he had ended up being temporarily trapped inside it, had at least kept it quite fit, well, apart from the obvious anyway. Harry noticed at this point that he could also see clearly without his glasses too.

Harry found a rather stylish day robe amongst the clothes, plain in colour but exquisitely tailored, at least that confirmed that he was still amongst wizards. He also found some underpants, some trousers and some long soft cotton stockings. Harry stared at these for a minute wondering where his socks had got to, he searched through the other clothes but there was no alternative. Harry pulled the stockings on first; he was forced to examine in detail the deep scars on his legs as he did so. He prodded one of his legs and found that there was no tone to the muscle there at all. He then pulled on the underpants, and then pulled the robe over the top of the shirt.

Harry was curious to know if he had a wand or not, he hadn't seen one amongst the clothes or near the bed so he searched through the pockets of his robe. A long and straight pocket yielded a wand although, as he might have expected, it wasn't his own wand. In another pocket Harry found some miniature items, there were two leg braces, two mahogany elbow crutches and a little wheelchair. It at least resolved one thing Harry had been trying to figure out. He now knew how the original owner of his body got out of bed and out of his room and that meant that he could too.

Harry returned the wheelchair to the pocket where he had found it; he wasn't quite ready for that yet. He placed the other items down on the bed and they expanded to full size without even a touch with the wand. Harry was very glad that the miniatures at least knew what they were doing. He picked up one of the leg braces and when it came into contact with his leg it magically jumped into action and fastened itself in place over the top of the stocking. He did the same with the other one and pulled his trousers on over the top. A pair of shoes then came out from underneath the armchair, jumped up onto the bed, and pushed themselves onto his feet.

Harry now felt reasonably confident, this body must at least be used to walking with the crutches or there would be no point in him having them, he dragged his legs over the side of the bed again and pulled himself up onto his feet leaning on the crutches, the knee joints in the braces locked into place as his legs straightened.

Harry couldn't actually move his legs still, but his strong arms and the magic in the braces helped him a lot, he tried a few tentative steps forward by using the crutches to lean forward and push himself up, allowing gravity and a bit of magic to help bring each leg forward. It was hard work even with his nice new arm muscles and he certainly wasn't looking forward to spending the whole day doing it, but he was out of bed and able to go somewhere and it would have to do.

Harry managed to walk through a doorway and into what seemed to be the living room in the apartment that he now found himself in. Here the curtains were already open and Harry noted that the view out of the window looked remarkably similar to the view at Hogwarts but that could just mean that he was somewhere in Scotland, there weren't any unique landmarks.

Harry went through another doorway and realised with a shock where he was, he was in the DADA Professor's quarters, he remembered this part of the accommodation very well. Either he was the guest of the DADA Professor or he was in the body of the DADA Professor himself. Harry sighed with relief as he realised something, at least he was at Hogwarts and whoever had taken over his body would soon be waking up with a broken arm. It was no more than they deserved, Harry thought, even HE thought it was a bit early in the school year for the Defence professor to be messing up his life.

It was bound to happen sooner or later though, somebody mistakenly believing that it was great to be the-boy-who-lived and finding a way to have a go. Harry hoped that the fact that his life was far from wonderful would bring about a switch back to normal very soon. Though, Harry had to admit, he wasn't exactly having much fun dragging himself around on crutches either, maybe the new DADA Professor wouldn't want his body back. Maybe he had thought that he would be better off taking his chances with the Dark Lord, just to be young and fit again. Maybe he thought that Harry Potter would rather be pretending to be a Defence Professor than living life at the top of Voldemort's hit list. Harry might have been tempted to agree had it been remotely possible that he could still play Quidditch. As it was, unless he figured out how to reverse his predicament, his broomstick days appeared to be well and truly over.

Harry consoled himself with one thing, if whoever it was didn't want their body back, then it would be fairly easy for the Order to bring 'Harry Potter' to Hogwarts and then the situation would be resolved very quickly indeed anyway. All Harry had to do, he thought, was find a friendly face, perhaps Albus Dumbledore, convince him of what had happened and who he really was, and that would be that.

If Harry remembered correctly, the door out into the corridor was right behind him and it was breakfast time, the Headmaster would certainly be easy enough to find. Harry turned carefully and then reached for the doorknob. He then remembered all the stairs between the floor he was currently on and the Great Hall. Well, Harry thought trying to cheer himself up, the real Defence Professor must have been managing somehow, and all he had to do was figure out how. He hoped that he would meet somebody on the way and they would do or say something that would give him a clue. Or maybe somebody had installed an enchanted elevator over the summer and he could find it.

Harry managed to get the door open and he stepped out into the corridor beyond. Then he froze as he realised something, what if the first person that he came across was Professor Snape, he wondered if his life could actually get any worse. He could only take comfort in the fact that Professor Snape would not know that it was him.

As Harry tried to remember which way to go he realised something else, this was clearly a potions mishap, if Ron's potion had been tampered with, and would therefore come to Snape's attention before it was solved anyway. Snape would probably be the one that he would have to explain it all to and there was no getting round it. Yes, Harry thought, this really was about as bad as it could get.

"Hey!" A man's voice called from behind Harry.

Harry tried his best to turn round as quickly as he could, "Hey," He replied since it had clearly been a morning greeting between friends.

The man had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail and was about thirty as far as Harry could estimate. He wore wizard robes and a smile. He was quite tall and thin, Harry didn't recognise him at all but it was obvious that they were friends. Harry had to wonder what Dumbledore was doing, Harry already knew that their new DADA Professor was up to something and the Headmaster had his best friend already living at Hogwarts too.

Harry took a moment to look the best friend over; the new DADA Professor was clearly sleeping with the wrong man. Harry thought that this friend was likely to be much tastier in bed; he was quite good looking for an older man and Harry had to doubly wonder what he was doing sleeping with a man with grey hair when there was such an attractive alternative on offer. Maybe this friend just wasn't inclined that way. Maybe, Harry pondered with distaste and horror, the owner of the short grey hair in his bed hadn't been a man.

"Are you ready then?" The man asked brightly.

"Ready for what?" Harry asked dumbly and without thinking, he was still lost in thought over what HE could have done with this friend had he been ten years younger and had he himself been in a state of more robust physical ability.

The man rolled his eyes, "Don't drink on a school night, honestly, the first day of the school year or had you forgotten?"

"Oh that!" Harry replied, recovering quite well he thought, "Oh yes, I'm ready for that."

The man smiled, "Good. Where is it then?"

"Where is what?" Harry asked failing to look anything other than thoroughly confused.

"The wheelchair! Really, what have you been drinking?" The man complained, he reached a hand out and took the miniature wheelchair out of Harry's pocket and placed it on the floor, it expanded to full size.

The man placed the wheelchair behind Harry in just the right position for him to sit down into it. Harry was pleased that at least the morning was progressing in a fairly self-explanatory sort of way. Harry lowered himself down into the chair and shrank the crutches back into his pocket. The Defence Professor's friend began to push for him and soon solved the question of how he was going to get down the stairs when he pushed the wheelchair over the edge of the first step and it hovered a foot from the surface of each step as they made their descent. When they reached the ground floor the chair sank back down onto the floor and the wheels resumed their duty.

It was the first day of the school year, Harry remembered the man's words as he was pushed towards the hall for breakfast, somehow he had managed to lose a month or else the Professors counted the start of the year from the point when they began to prepare lessons. He was supposed to be prepared for something; he wasn't going to worry about what just yet, though Harry assumed that meant he must be the DADA Professor for sure. Harry decided that he would try not to be worried about the time lapse until he could be sure that there really was more of a problem.

Harry at least knew where he was headed now; they were making their way towards the back entrance to the hall where the teachers often came in. Dumbledore would no doubt be there and Harry would pick a moment to talk to him. Snape would probably be there as well, Harry thought, unless he was still hanging around the Dursley's house. Well, he decided, he would try to ignore Snape until he no longer had a choice in the matter.

"I need to use the bathroom," Harry decided to announce before they got too close to the hall. The need had come upon him suddenly when he realised that he could be imminently facing Snape at the teacher's table.

Harry's recently inherited friend changed direction and headed for the corridor where Harry knew there were staff facilities. To Harry's relief his friend and helper remained outside the door when they reached their destination.

Harry went inside and found that there was plenty of room and handles in all the right places to hold onto. Still, by the time he was finished Harry was thoroughly irritated and a bit worn out already. He hadn't even got through breakfast; never mind whatever else was in store for him. He wondered if things were going to keep on getting worse or if he was reaching some sort of plateau. Harry allowed his friend to resume his duties and they continued on to the hall.

"Can I push now?" Harry asked suddenly as he realised that they were nearly there, he wanted to appear as capable as possible.

"If you want," the man replied, "Got to keep up your image I suppose."

The wheelchair operated like a Muggle one on the flat and Harry managed to push it along the remaining corridor easily enough. The man held the door open and he even managed to navigate the doorway without clipping the chair on the ancient wooden door frames.

When Harry glanced down the hall all the tables were full with children quietly and patiently waiting for their breakfast. Harry could only stare at them in horror; it really was the first day of school. The sorting ceremony must have taken place the night before and there they all sat, the first years all looking up at the teacher's table with wonder and enthusiasm in their eyes. It appeared that his problems might only just be beginning, what a thought that was.

There was a place set at the teacher's table that didn't have a chair in front of it and Harry wheeled the wheelchair over to it knowing that it must be his place. The man sat next to him on one side and the Headmaster's chair remained empty on the other.

Harry was pleased, he was going to be sat next to the Headmaster, which would make it easier to start a conversation and discuss his current problem, without drawing attention to himself from the students or the other staff.

Harry looked around, there were no more free places at the table and he couldn't see Snape, he wondered if he had been lucky enough to encounter the first year that Snape wasn't teaching, maybe he was devoting all of his time to standing outside of the Dursleys' house and somebody else would be taking Potions. Maybe that was why the DADA Professor had a friend sat next to him. Harry had a quick look for a man or woman with short half grey hair, hoping to spot his mysterious lover but nobody present appeared to fit the description.

Harry was snapped out of his daydream by the sight of a tall, bat like figure striding down the centre of the hall from the student's entrance. With a sinking feeling in his heart Harry realised that it was Snape. It was unmistakably Snape, the same clothes, the same nose, and the same jet-black shoulder length hair that looked as greasy and lank as ever. Snape reached the teacher's table and swooped round, he came to sit at Harry's side in the Headmaster's chair.

Harry could hardly breath, he knew there was something very wrong with his current situation, he didn't think it could get much worse but it was becoming more awful by the minute. Had something happened to Albus? Why else would Snape swoop confidently into the Headmaster's seat? At least, Harry thought trying to think positively, he hadn't been put into the body of the new Potions Master with Snape as Headmaster, which would have been truly hideous. Harry wondered if his friend had that illustrious position. Harry was suddenly very nervous and feeling all the things he always felt when he had to talk to Snape, the Snape who was probably still furious about the Pensieve incident no matter how much time had passed.

"Good morning and welcome to another year at Hogwarts," Snape's voice suddenly thundered across the hall, "I have the pleasure of announcing that Gryffindor House have lost five points already due to late night wanderings, quite an achievement even for them. There are no other announcements this morning. Lessons will commence at 9am sharp."

Harry resisted the urge to shake his head, Snape was indeed Headmaster but he still spoke as if he were the Head of Slytherin House, Harry was missing Albus already even though he wasn't even a student here anymore.

The breakfast was served and it was the usual Hogwarts fare that Harry was used to. He tried to eat as much as he could, savouring the taste of the food; it was something that he had almost forgotten about when he was at the Dursleys for the summer. He might have felt too sick to eat if it hadn't been for them starving him.

Snape ate his breakfast in silence and then stood to leave long before anybody else had finished. Harry thought that he would get away without having to communicate with him but before Snape left the hall he turned to face him. He was purposely standing up and towering above Harry, which, he thought was a bit rough considering his circumstances, even by Snape's standards.

"Late again this morning Professor," Snape criticized.

"How would you know?" Harry found himself snapping back.

"I think you will find that I miss very little," Snape said haughtily.

"I think you will find that I no longer care," Harry imitated Snape's tone. Harry had to marvel at the fact that Snape harassed him even when he didn't know that it was him.

"Could you meet me in my office at lunchtime?" Snape asked Harry though Harry could tell that it was a command, "There is something we need to discuss."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Snape gave a trademark sneer, "You will find that out when you attend," He snapped.

"Fine," Harry snapped back.

"Professor Meier," Snape nodded in stiff greeting to Harry's friend and then swooped away without another word.

"Oh dear," Professor Meier said with a snigger, "Somebody is in trouble."

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed, "What's new," He added.

"And somebody has also got first year Slytherins and Gryffindors in his first class," Professor Meier added merrily.

"Oh goody," Harry responded, "Let's see if we can get the points off to a good start this year." Harry added thinking of all the points he could award the Gryffindors to make up for their early misfortune. No doubt it was still Snape's habit to stalk the corridors after dark just to make sure Slytherin stood a chance of winning the House Cup and he would make a point of ensuring that he didn't get away with it.

Of course a combination of Harry's nerves and Snape's speedy exit had meant that he had not got round to telling anybody about his problem. Harry glanced at Professor Meier and wondered if it was a good idea to try and tell him anything.

"So what is up with you today?" Professor Meier asked as he finished off the last of his morning coffee.

"Nothing," Harry replied, deciding that it was too soon to try telling somebody he had never met before. Besides, for all Harry knew, Professor Meier was in on the plan anyway.

"Right," Professor Meier said not believing a word of it, "What have you been drinking? You can tell me, we have no secrets."

"I have not been drinking anything," Harry protested.

"Well what is going on then?"

"Nothing, really," Harry tried again but then realised that it wasn't going to work, "I've been feeling weird, like all this isn't real."

"Muggle drugs?"

"No! It's like I am not me, it's like I'm sixteen again, or seventeen, I have just had my birthday after all. I don't know what I am going to do with this class, I can't think."

"Merlin forbids, that you should end up like you were at sixteen again!" Professor Meier stared at Harry for a while and then smiled, he smiled in the way that a sane person might smile at a mad one, "Repeat after me," He instructed.

"What?"

"It's quite understandable; the prospect of new first years has a similar effect on me. Repeat after me, 'I am the DADA Professor at Hogwarts, I am the best DADA teacher that Hogwarts has ever had'." Professor Meier instructed.

"I am the DADA Professor at Hogwarts, the best one they have ever had," Harry repeated with a smile.

"'I am the only DADA Professor to last more than one year in who knows how long'. Quite an achievement, you have to admit."

"I am the only DADA Professor to last more than one year," Harry said feeling very impressed with his alter ego for a moment. Then he realised what had been said, "A YEAR?" he burst out before he could think better of it, he had been teaching for over a year.

"Yes, more than a year," Professor Meier confirmed with an exasperated expression, "'I am a mean bastard and I am going to show those first years exactly what they're letting themselves in for'."

"I am mean and I will show those first years!" Harry repeated enthusiastically.

"And you're going to give all the points to your own house. Right, you have class in half an hour; I suggest you work out how to look sober."

"I am sober!" Harry protested again.

"Right, whatever. It would certainly be a first." Professor responded with a disbelieving smile.

Harry gave up; he supposed that he must have sounded a bit unhinged. He would take the class and the one after that and then he would just have to be brave and tell Headmaster Snape what had happened when they met at lunchtime.

Professor Meier went to his own lessons after breakfast and Harry made his way over to the Defence classroom leaving plenty of time to inspect his office before he had to begin teaching. Harry wasn't too daunted at the prospect of having to teach, he had after all been doing it on a smaller scale for his DA meetings only that year. It was the lunch meeting with Snape that really had him worried, it was the ideal time to tell him about his predicament but what if Snape didn't believe him and he was stuck where he was forever, stuck lunching with Snape every day for the rest of his life, knowing his luck.


	3. The DADA Professor

**Chapter 3 The DADA Professor**

Time ran out for Harry quickly enough, five minutes before the first Defence class of the year was to take place and the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins began to assemble in the classroom. Harry had formulated a plan to extract a bit of information from the students before he began to teach anything, if it worked he would find out who he was and perhaps a few other things too, Harry hoped that he would be lucky, although it didn't seem to be the trend for the day so far.

Professor Meier had said that he had the reputation for being a bit scary and Harry didn't think that he looked scary enough sitting in a wheelchair. Once all the seats had been taken up with students, Harry assumed that he could start the lesson and pulled himself onto his feet.

Harry didn't want too many people to know that something was amiss but he needn't have worried, the new DADA Professor's reputation seemed to have travelled ahead of him and the first years already looked quite frightened. They reminded Harry very much of how he and his fellow Gryffindors had felt during their first Potions lesson with Snape. Their real teacher must have been truly horrible to the students before, Harry thought; it wasn't as if he could have scared them with Snape like tricks like stomping about and banging doors.

Once nine o'clock came Harry had a silent class with their attention focused solely on him, "Who am I?" Harry asked trying to imitate the tone Snape used with students when he wanted to intimidate, calling the words out so that they echoed across the room bouncing off the stone walls.

Harry was met with silence, "Who am I?" He demanded raising his voice considerably.

A nervous looking boy near the front slowly raised his hand, "Professor Potter sir," the boy answered.

"Very good," Harry acknowledged with his heart dripping down the inside of his body till it reached his feet. He was Professor Potter the DADA teacher and he was the only one to last more than one year. MORE THAN ONE YEAR? Harry tried to breathe normally and continue with the lesson, Potter was a common enough surname, it had to be somebody else, "What is your name and which House are you in?" He asked of the boy who had answered.

Harry noticed that the poor boy looked as though he might faint, sitting there staring up at him with fear and awe, "My name is Harry Silverstone," the boy replied, "I am in Gryffindor."

"Well one point to Gryffindor," Harry told the boy as he noticed the Slytherins seething on the other side of the room, "What can anyone tell me about Voldemort?" Harry continued. To Harry's surprise not one of them flinched at the sound of the name.

"He's dead," the younger Harry spoke up.

Harry stared at the younger Harry, had he just heard correctly, might the boy mean what he thought he meant, "Dead?"

"Yes sir," the boy answered confidently, "You killed him."

"How?" Harry asked, he was Professor Potter and he had killed Voldemort, he would have to be an older version of himself for that to be true, either that or the Prophecy had always been nonsense, Harry didn't think that he could be that lucky though.

Allowing for the training he would have had to have completed to become a Professor and then taking into account the fact that he had been teaching for more than a year made Harry's estimation of the amount of time that he had skipped a little bigger, if it were to be believed that Professor Potter was just an older version of Harry Potter.

"Nobody knows, nobody really understands it, nobody but you Sir," the boy answered, "The details have never been documented, your wand was never analysed and nobody who was there that night has ever told a soul."

"Somebody else," Harry said trying not to dwell on any one point as he tried to get as much of a picture as possible, "How long has it been since Voldemort was defeated?"

There was much conferring among the Slytherin children; they were all desperate to get it right.

"Surely one of you can remember when it was?" Harry asked, he couldn't understand what the problem was, surely it couldn't have been that long ago, how long exactly would it take to train to be a teacher, he didn't really know.

Finally one of the Gryffindors stood up, once they had seen how desperate the Slytherins had been, they had quickly tried to come up with the answer themselves, "It was twelve years ago," The boy said, "I think I can remember my mother saying that it was the year before I was born."

Harry had to sit down, he had to do it before he fell, he felt dizzy and sick and suddenly the room seemed like it didn't have any air. The first time that he had confronted Voldemort he had been a toddler with no wand, it had to be a second defeat, but now it was twelve years since then? Any one of the children in front of Harry could have been his son now if he'd been anybody but the boy-who-lived or rather the man-who-lived again, if he'd fathered a child instead of getting into a war. One of them was called Harry; one of them had been named after him the year after the victory.

As Harry tried to turn in order to see where the wheelchair was, one of the students dashed forward and placed it immediately behind him. They must have been briefed before they attended his lesson Harry realised as he lowered himself gratefully down into the chair.

"Can anyone tell me why any of this is important and relevant to your studies as a first year at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to make his interrogation sound more like a proper lesson. Maybe, Harry thought, he might be able to help these children while he was stuck doing the classes anyway. He needed the students to do the talking for a little while longer too; he needed some time to feel a little calmer.

There was a silence, none of the children seemed prepared to answer the question even if they thought that they knew the answer.

"No matter," Harry continued, "Part of my job is to make sure that YOU DO know how to answer that question by the end of the week. Then we will move onto some practical work. The structure will be as follows, I will demonstrate the defensive technique, then we will study about applications and contraindications etcetera, then you will have the chance to practise the technique for yourselves."

For the rest of the lesson Harry tried to talk about some of the aspects of defence without mentioning Voldemort, he had had more information than he could currently cope with on that subject.

When the lesson was over, only a single period, Harry sat in the empty classroom patiently waiting for the second years to arrive. He had to think while he had a little time to do so; it looked like he was still Harry Potter only something had seriously gone wrong. Somehow his life hadn't turned out so well and he had lost the memory of twelve years of it. Either that or he had somehow been transported into this situation where he was suddenly older without having to live through it. He had a friend that he had never met before yet he referred to knowing him when he was sixteen, and he was teaching under Headmaster Snape with no idea about how he was going to get back to the Dursleys or who he could ask to help him, except perhaps for one person.

Harry had to wonder if he was in the future for a reason, maybe his older self had got sick of his life and had been the one to make the switch, so that he could make things better. Although if that was the case, Harry had to admit, it would have been nice of him to leave a letter explaining everything and telling him not to panic.

He didn't know that he wanted to go back to the Dursleys as such, only that if he was there again he would know what was going on and he could change his mind about suffering in silence. Maybe if he ever got back he would stagger out into the street, broken arm and all, and he would gratefully call for Snape.

Calling for Snape to help him at the Dursleys suddenly seemed a bit trivial compared to the mess he had gotten himself into by not doing it. Asking the older Snape to help him now though seemed as daunting as it had done in the past. Harry knew that he had to find Ron, Harry decided as the first second year students began to arrive what he was going to do, Ron might know what to do but even if he didn't his real best friend would certainly be able to help in some way, he could get Hermione. Ron would be able to fill him in on everything that he needed to know to get by for a while at the very least. Whatever else changed in the world, surely Ron would always be Ron, somehow he would have to find out what had happened to Ron and go to him.

Having looked at the plan on his desk up in the office, Harry knew that his schedule was full for the next few days but he would have some free time later in the week, he would have to find a way of locating Ron without it being obvious to Professor Meier or Snape. He would also have to find a way of getting to Ron once he had found out where he was.

First, Harry remembered, he would have to get through lunch with Snape and a whole lot more besides. He also knew that he should find out who his lover was too. He knew that he was much older even than a thirty-year-old Harry Potter was, he was going to have to find a way to distance himself from him, there was only so much pretending he could do before the cracks would begin to show.

The second years arrived for class and they seemed to know Professor Potter very well Harry was glad to see, they sat down immediately and remained stony silent, their attention patiently on him.

Harry didn't stand this time; he had had enough of that for a while. He had instantly dreaded using the wheelchair but standing and walking was so exhausting he didn't know how he would get to the end of the day.

"Can anyone remember what we were studying at the end of last year?" Harry asked, again trying to imitate Snape's tone. He was quite pleased with himself for thinking of the question; he only hoped that they gave the correct answer so that he would know where they had gotten up to himself.

ccccc

Harry set the second years an essay to write before they left, an account of everything that had happened in the Wizarding world in the last twelve years from a dark arts perspective. The students hadn't looked very pleased but Harry had thought that it was an ingenious idea. Harry would have been feeling quite pleased with himself had it not been for the fact that his left leg and hip were beginning to hurt and he now had to endure lunch with Snape. So much for revelling joyfully in the experience of having no pain, he thought grimly.

Harry presumed that he was meant to find his way up to the Headmaster's quarters in order to find Snape. As he found himself at the bottom of the steps to the Headmaster's tower he really wished that Snape had mellowed over the years although he had seen little evidence of it so far.

But that was in the hall at breakfast time, Harry tried to reason, what if Snape was different towards his fellow teachers in private and had long ago forgotten their animosity towards each other. Although knowing the kind of luck he was having it was highly unlikely. It was more likely that he had been especially invited to a private beginning-of-term roasting; Snape was, as Headmaster, still in a position to assume superiority over him.

Harry looked up at the now foreboding steps to the Headmaster's quarters, whatever was the case he would have to play along with whatever happened till after he had managed to speak to Ron. Of all the people in the Wizarding world he was missing Ron the most; he found that he really needed Ron. Harry wondered how on earth he was going to deal with Snape if he started trying to be friendly; suddenly it seemed worse than what he was used to.

Harry decided that it was going to start looking strange if he stayed at the bottom of the stairs staring up so he began his ascent feeling like he was travelling to his doom.

Before Harry could lose his nerve and turn for the stairs again he forced his arm to reach out and knocked upon the door. A half minute later a formidable Snape wrenched the door open in an irritated manner. Snape then stepped out of the Headmaster's quarters to tower above Harry in a familiarly threatening way.

"Something wrong with the password Potter?" Snape glowered down at Harry.

Although Harry was clearly a fully-grown adult now he was still left in a position where Snape could make him feel like an eleven year old child. Harry felt immediately angered by Snape's insensitivity, "Professor Potter if you don't mind," Harry snapped back trying hard not to be forced into admitting that he had 'forgotten' the password.

Snape merely disappeared back into the Headmaster's quarters with a flurry of cloak.

Harry had little choice but to follow Snape, by the time Harry joined him Snape had sat behind what used to be Dumbledore's desk and was looking as if he felt very much at home there. It hit Harry hard, seeing Snape there brought it all crashing down on him, the grim reality of it. Dumbledore was really gone and Snape had taken his place.

"What did you want to see me about?" Harry asked wanting to get it over with.

"A very important matter," Snape replied gravely whilst not lifting his eyes away from the parchment he was reading.

"What is it?" Harry persisted bluntly.

"In good time Potter," Snape replied, "Be patient."

Harry glowered at Snape, was it actually possible that he had gotten worse over the missing years.

"And stand up," Snape suddenly commanded Harry, "Instead of sitting in that chair lounging around all day, you are irritating me."

"No," Harry replied hardly believing that he was hearing Snape's words.

Snape looked up, "If you don't then you will lose the ability to do so," he snapped, "And then what was the point of working so hard to gain it, I can't believe we're actually discussing this again, stand up."

Harry pondered another refusal but he had already decided that he should play along with whatever was presented to him. No matter how humiliating Harry knew that it was going to be, he knew also that he had to obey Snape, he had no way of knowing what his normal routine was, it could very well be that this was the only time he attempted to walk and Snape wouldn't know that he had already been standing half the morning.

Harry pulled himself up onto his feet and was thankful that Severus returned to the papers on his desk while he did so, apparently having no desire to gawp at him.

Harry walked around the office for about twenty minutes before a house elf arrived with some lunch on a large tray. As soon as the tray arrived Snape jumped up and relocated to a chair in front of the fireplace. Snape didn't ask Harry to join him but there were two glasses filled with pumpkin juice next to the food and Harry was very hungry and so risked assuming what he was supposed to do.

Harry managed to lower himself down into another armchair, which was opposite to Snape's, and Snape handed Harry a plate piled high with food without a word. Harry didn't need asking, he began to eat and Snape did also. After he had finished the food Harry sipped on his drink and wondered if Snape was thinking of saying anything else before lunchtime was over but he didn't speak once.

Harry wondered if there was any way of finding out from Snape who his lover was or anything else. He really wanted to know how Professor Meier could make comments about his childhood when Harry was sure that he had never met him before. Harry couldn't think of any ways of asking without it sounding weird and without also breaking the rather odd and uncomfortable silence that had existed since the food had arrived, and so the silence stretched on.

Snape rubbed his eyes a few times, Harry had to suppose that over ten years more of teaching had taken its toll on his eyesight but it was rather puzzling that his own should be normal if that were the case surely Snape could have had his fixed in just the way that Harry found that older Harry had.

Time passed so far that it was nearly time for the first class of the afternoon and Harry had not approached Snape about his predicament. Snape stood up and brought the wheelchair over to where Harry was sitting.

"Can you manage?" Snape asked with familiar sternness.

Harry didn't need to contemplate what the consequences of saying no were; even though his hip seemed to be getting more painful by the minute he couldn't allow Snape to help him. Harry told Snape that he could manage very well and Snape didn't argue.

"I will expect your return following evening meal," Snape announced as Harry made to leave, "Can you do something about your appearance before then?"

Harry chose to ignore Snape's comment about his appearance, it was clear that the Professor was still the same old Snape but he was determined that he wasn't going to be the same old Harry and he wasn't going to let it worry him at all. It was only after Harry had begun his first afternoon class that he recalled that there never had been a very 'important matter to discuss' revealed during their lunchtime.

Harry remained sitting down; he was at least figuring things out, if Snape continued to make him walk every lunchtime, then he would have to make sure that it was the only time he didn't use the chair. Harry had set his class a short exercise which he was proud to say was actually for the student's own benefit and not just a method by which he could figure out what had happened to him. He used the time to search his robes and his office for a pain potion but there were none to be found.

It had seemed obvious to Harry that if he regularly experienced pain then there should be phials of pain potion stashed in his desk but it wasn't the case. The only places he could think of to get some were from the hospital wing or Snape. There was also Professor Meier of course but Harry wasn't that sure that he was the Potions Professor and there were quite a few other teachers that he didn't recognise that could hold the post instead. Harry had to hope that the pain would ease off a bit as long as he didn't try to stand again.

ccccc

Once afternoon lessons were over Harry returned to the DADA Professor's living quarters and searched what he supposed was now his home for pain potion. The pain in his hip hadn't lessoned at all, in fact if anything Harry was sure that it was getting worse. He moved his chair so that he was positioned behind his desk and began to rummage through the desk drawers but they were stuffed with papers and quills without a single phial in sight.

He was about to say something that wouldn't be repeatable in polite company when there was a knock at the door.

Harry sighed in irritation instead, "Come in!" He barked at the door.

A young boy came in timidly; Harry wished that he would just hurry up and then go again instead of edging cautiously into the room as he was doing.

"What do you want?" Harry barked hoping that the boy would just change his mind and go away again.

The boy approached Harry's desk and held the parchment he was holding out over the desk, "Please sir, my permission parchment for Hogsmeade," He squeaked.

"Take it to your house head," Harry snapped without taking his eyes away from the drawer he was trying to rummage through.

Harry looked up and the boy was looking terrified and confused, he still held out the parchment, "Right, give it to me then," Harry then snapped snatching the parchment in an effort to cover his tracks, the knowledge that he must be a house head rattling about in his brain.

The boy went but his actions had opened up a whole lot more things for Harry to think and worry about. If he was house head then Minerva McGonagall must be gone. It stood to reason that she would have taken over from Dumbledore as Headmaster but there was Snape instead. He had to wonder why there were so few people he recognised left at Hogwarts, he especially wondered about those that had been young enough to still be around even though he was now thirty himself. How could one wishing potion and three modest wishes change the world so much?

The thought came to Harry's mind, maybe they are all dead, he angrily tried to push the thought away, if he believed that then he would have to believe that Ron might be dead too.

Harry threw the parchment down on the desk and tried to resume his search for the pain potion he was still fairly convinced should be there somewhere.

Harry eventually sat back in his chair and took a long deep breath out to try and calm his frustration. There was no pain potion in his private desk either.

Fortunately, Harry thought, at least his quarters were fairly spacious and he had no trouble manoeuvring the chair around the study and into the bedroom in order to continue his search.

Hardly any time at all seemed to have passed when Harry realised that it was nearly time for the evening meal. He had emptied all of the drawers in his bedroom out onto the bed and still he hadn't found any potions anywhere. If the pain hadn't been so bad he might have been annoyed but it had gotten quite bad indeed and all that happened was he felt tears coming to his eyes. He fought them away, he couldn't start crying or he would never stop.

As strange as it was, he suddenly remembered Snape's comment regarding his appearance, he looked up and glanced at the mirror over the dressing table. Harry's breath caught in his throat, he had forgotten for a while that he was now thirty, he might have looked handsome in his smart robes if not for that. Snape had been right about his appearance though, Harry reluctantly admitted to himself, he might be smartly dressed but he had left that morning without doing anything with his hair. He reached for a brush and scraped it over his scalp drawing his hair back into a ponytail and securing it with a band so that he looked a little more like Professor Meier.

He looked again in the mirror and noticed the fine lines around his eyes. He turned away again; it didn't do to focus on such trivial matters. At least he was now the same age as Professor Meier and may stand a chance of making him into more than a friend if only to help him pass the time till he managed to get back.

Harry wheeled the chair over to the door feeling irritated with himself, yet again he was letting a frivolous fancy cloud his mind away from what really mattered, Ron. First it had been Draco, and now he was entertaining feelings of lust towards this Professor Meier; he had to stop it. He had to find Ron and then find a way of getting his life back, it was all that mattered.


	4. An Evening With Snape

**Chapter 4 An Evening With Snape**

Harry positioned his chair by the door and leant over to open it so that he could make his way down to the hall for dinner. He twisted his left hip as he did so and the intense pain that shot down his leg drove all lustful thoughts from his brain and reminded him not to do it again.

He wheeled the chair out into the corridor and found that Professor Meier wasn't waiting for him this time. He still hadn't laid eyes on his mysterious lover either, he suddenly remembered. He wondered if it was a secret liaison and the person only came to him in the middle of the night and left by dawn. He couldn't imagine who he could be if he had to keep that kind of secrecy.

Harry pushed the chair over the edge of the steps still half expecting to fall, he didn't know how long it would take to get used to the chair, part of him wanted to be gone before he found out.

Harry knew that he was on time but was somewhat annoyed to find that he had automatically headed for the students entrance to the hall. He contemplated going in any way as Snape had done but he didn't really want to have to fight his way through the students so he turned the chair round and headed the other way.

When Harry entered the hall everybody else was eating and Snape turned towards him with a sneer as he took his position at the table.

"You're lateness is legendary," Snape commented before returning to his meal.

"Screw you," Harry hissed only loud enough for Snape to hear, or so he thought, after all, what was he going to do about it, expel him?

Snape made no response but Harry could hear Professor Meier sniggering like a schoolboy next to him.

Harry managed to eat with no problem, it had been quite an exhausting day all in all and his appetite was willing to try and help. He tried to ignore Snape for as long as he could and the fact that Professor Meier occasionally spoke to him about this and that helped him enormously.

Snape finished his meal first; Harry assumed that he must always be the first to finish, always halfway to wanting to be somewhere else, making everybody else feel lazy just because they gave their food time to be chewed and digested first.

Snape stood up as soon as he had finished eating, "I will see you two up in my quarters in the next quarter hour," He announced.

Typical Snape, Harry thought, twelve years and a war wouldn't change him.

Harry waited till Snape had left before turning to Professor Meier, "Great, wonderful!" he commented expecting Professor Meier's sympathy to follow.

Professor Meier only grinned enigmatically at Harry and Harry decided to say no more. He didn't know what it meant but there was something that he didn't know and would therefore have to learn about it later.

Professor Meier finished off his meal quickly and was next to stand up, "Well, he who-shall-be-obeyed must not be kept waiting," he announced, "You coming?"

Harry was irritated; in this time it seemed that he wasn't even allowed to eat his pudding in peace. Where was it anyway that said that the Professors had to obey the Headmaster to this extent, he certainly didn't remember such demands being made on the other teachers in his past.

Reluctantly Harry left the remainder of his meal and followed Professor Meier out of the hall. It appeared that they were meant to have a meeting with Snape and Harry at least hoped that there really would be an 'important matter to discuss' this time or else he would have to launch himself out of the wheelchair and grab both his hands around Snape's throat. How could this have ended up being his reward for killing Voldemort? Maybe he had been injured in the war, he could accept that, but how had the rest of his life ended up being so dreary?

Professor Meier took over the pushing of the wheelchair, Harry was glad of it; he was feeling tired and despondent and his hip still hurt. He really wouldn't have complained if he had been allowed to retire to bed, lover or no lover.

They went the long way round covering practically the entire castle before they eventually ended up outside Snape's quarters almost exactly a quarter of an hour after they had last seen him. Professor Meier spoke the password 'asphodel' to allow them inside and Harry at least felt glad that he had found out something useful, at least he wouldn't have to anger Snape by knocking on the door any more.

Snape was at his desk but he stood and moved to the armchair in front of the fireplace as the two men entered. Harry noticed that Snape had a drink in his hand contained within a glass, he was certain that it wasn't juice or tea.

There were still only two armchairs in the room so Harry stayed in his chair and pulled up alongside the free chair instead. Professor Meier went over to a decanter on Snape's desk and helped himself to two drinks without invitation. Something about the way he did this made Harry think that they spent every evening with Snape. Just when Harry thought things couldn't get any worse he found that they could and then some.

"Anything to report?" Snape asked once they were all seated with a drink.

"Nope," Professor Meier replied.

"Everything's fine," Harry replied hoping that it wasn't going to be all work, work, work, though he didn't know what they might do instead.

"Well," Snape said raising his glass to his lips, "Welcome to the only homework free evening of the school term," he took a long languid mouthful of drink and savoured it before swallowing.

Harry was amazed, he had never seen Snape do anything approaching languid before. He raised his own glass to his lips and he tasted the drink that he had been given. He was pleased to find that it was Muggle alcohol, a whiskey and if he was not mistaken, if he knew Snape at all, expensive and old single malt. He couldn't imagine Snape stooping to something so Muggle unless it was old and very very good.

Harry took another large mouthful almost immediately after the first, ignoring the burning in his throat as he swallowed, he thought that the alcohol might help with the pain and getting shit faced didn't seem like too bad an idea either. He had never had alcohol before, no more than a taste, though he was assuming that he would have his thirty year old self's stamina for it.

Snape finished his drink and poured himself another, he then left the decanter at his feet so Harry assumed that having a few must be on the agenda. Harry was glad, he had had enough of thinking, he wanted to block it all out and just sit and watch the flames of the fire as they licked around the glowing embers of the half burned logs in the fireplace.

Harry wondered why they were together and all the other teachers got to go somewhere else, what was it that bound them? The thought drifted away with another drink.

"Did you set them lots of nice homework?" Snape asked both Professors Potter and Meier after a while of peaceful and relaxing silence.

"Oh yes!" Harry answered, "Big homework, lots."

Snape and Professor Meier exchanged a look and Meier stood up.

"What?" Harry protested when he noticed that they were both looking at him.

Professor Meier did not answer but leant towards Harry and put one of Harry's arms round his neck and the other round his shoulder. Harry griped onto Professor Meier as he felt himself being lifted and Professor Meier lowered Harry into the now free armchair. Harry was glad that Professor Meier had done that; it was just the sort of thing he had been hoping to avoid from Snape.

Professor Meier sat down in the wheelchair instead.

Snape raised an eyebrow, "At least you won't fall onto the floor now," He said disapprovingly.

Harry glowered back; it was all he could think of with his brain getting so mushy. He mustn't have done a very good job of glowering because Snape merely hid a smirk behind his glass of whiskey. Harry bristled a bit and took another drink, amongst everything else Snape was now laughing at him.

Harry sank into the armchair and felt grateful for it. Since he wasn't planning on moving it did prove to be a more appropriate option, at least it didn't wobble on its wheels when all he did was move his arms like the other thing did. Harry looked at Professor Meier and found him delectable. Though he didn't have the nerve to proposition him in front of Snape, he knew that if Professor Meier were to appear in his bed in the middle of the night he wouldn't be complaining. Harry felt a stirring down below at the thought and knew that at least there was some part of him there that was still functioning, much use it was likely to do him with only a stranger to look forward to, an old stranger at that.

Harry's thoughts had drifted and he suddenly became aware that although Snape knew that he was getting drunk he had refilled his glass for him anyway and the level on the decanter was not going down. Trust Snape to have magically replenishing falling down potion, he thought, not that he needed much help to fall down. The pain had dulled a bit though which he was glad of.

"What was it Marius, that you were going to try with the third years?" Snape suddenly asked.

Although Harry looked up at Snape and then across at Professor Meier he knew that the question was not for him, even though he was a little bit drunk, Harry managed to file away his friend's name in his memory for future use. Harry wondered through his fogged mind why it was that Marius got to be called Marius whereas he was still 'Potter'. Somehow it seemed more than unfair and he thought about protesting although he didn't know why he cared what Snape called him. Marius Meier, Harry pondered, it almost seemed made up, he grinned and giggled a little. Then he smiled a bit at the glower his mirth had elicited from Snape, in his drunken stupor Snape wasn't at all scary any more.

"I don't suppose there is any point in asking you any questions regarding your development of the curriculum this term," Snape commented testily to Harry.

"Nope," Harry replied and grinned again.

Snape looked back strangely, almost wistfully and Harry wondered if his grin had been a major mistake, "At least not this evening at any rate," Snape said without his usual acidic tone.

"Perhaps we should do something else," Professor Meier suggested having not been given the chance to answer the question he had been asked and not caring too much about it either by the looks of it, Harry noted.

"Perhaps," Snape agreed, not seeming to care either. It was if Snape had only been trying to be Snape because he thought he should and Harry had unwittingly broken his resolve.

"Poetry," Marius suggested.

Harry knew that any Muggle, especially one of the age he had been just the day before, would have been horrified at the idea of poetry as a leisurely evening pursuit, but Harry knew better, this would likely be wizard poetry and it held a magic all of its own.

"Yes, poetry," Harry agreed readily.

That agreement came before he saw that it was Snape who stood up and retrieved a worn volume from his bookcase. Harry frowned a little, what would it be like, he thought, to be read a bedtime story by Snape? How did the old Professor's voice lend itself to the art of soothing?

Snape began and Harry soon discovered that his voice was like honey. The words of the poetry dripped over Harry as he closed his eyes and let the words form pictures in his head warmed by the glow of the fire into a dream world of imagery. Soothing to his soul, Snape's diction was perfect and nothing seemed to matter anymore. So few words and yet they meant everything and created their own world in his mind, Harry didn't care about anything. He didn't care that he was far from home, that his legs lay lifeless, that he didn't know what he was going to do about any of it. Somehow he felt safe with Snape.

Sometime later, he didn't know how long, Harry thought he heard his name being called. It sounded a bit like Snape but it was gentle like the poem and Snape never called him Harry.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly hollered in his all too familiar Potions Master voice.

Harry jumped awake and nearly slid out of the armchair onto the floor, when he looked up he saw that Snape was glowering down at him. The fact that Snape was glowering in the gentle light of the fireplace did not soften it any.

"It's late." Snape said to Harry and he realised that he must have fallen asleep. The aching in his joints and his stiff neck confirmed that he had fallen asleep in the armchair.

"Can you take Professor Potter to bed?" Snape asked Marius, "And then can you do the west wing for me?"

"Yes of course," Marius readily agreed.

Harry looked towards Marius just as he was standing up and shrinking the wheelchair.

"Hey," Harry protested, "How am I supposed to get back?"

Snape gave him a withering look, "You are far too drunk to be using that."

Harry wanted to know why it was any of Snape's business but he chose to keep quiet. He didn't want the effects of the poetry and the drink to disappear before he got to bed.

Marius raised his wand at Harry and he found that he was shrinking though not as much as the wheelchair had. He was beyond alarmed, but he managed not to say anything. He found that he was suddenly the size of an eleven-year-old boy once again. Harry was only beginning to wonder what was going to happen next to make his life more fun, when Professor Meier scooped him up into his arms and cradled him against his chest like a beloved sick child. Harry instantly felt more at ease with his situation and rested his head against Marius' warm and welcoming chest.

Harry allowed the drink and his exhaustion to envelope him in fatigue, as he was held nestled against Marius' chest, feeling the gentle rocking motion as he was carried through the castle to his bed, Marius was carrying him gently to bed. Why don't I remember you when you were sixteen, Harry thought, I am sure I would have remembered.

Harry felt the comfortable bed as he was lowered onto it and felt the sheet falling coolly onto his skin once Marius had restored his size and removed his clothing for him. I don't mind you seeing me, Harry thought to himself, please stay, please do something to make this life seem worthwhile.

"I have to see if there are any Gryffindors still wandering around," Marius announced, he touched a hand to Harry's shoulder as a goodnight and then left.

Harry was more than a little disappointed, first of all, his friend was not a Gryffindor, else he wouldn't be hunting them, and secondly he had left and ruined all of his fantasies. Harry tried to turn into a different position but the nagging pain in his hip made him stop, maybe he was in no fit state for anything anyway, he pondered with regret.

A while later Harry was awoken by a gentle hand on his shoulder once more, he smiled to himself without opening his eyes, Marius had come back. The hand was replaced with a kiss.

"Make love to me," Harry murmured as he felt the weight of another body coming to rest on the side of the bed, so that there would be no mistaking what he wanted. At this point he didn't really care if his hip was hurting or not. Maybe tomorrow he would be back in his own time and would have to wait a long time for another chance. He had read a Muggle book once, before he knew that he was a wizard. 'Charlotte Sometimes' it had been called, it was about a girl in a boarding school and every time she slept in a particular bed she changed places with another girl in the past, the next day she would be back in the present. Harry wondered what he would do if he woke up back in his own time come the morning.

Harry felt himself being turned over onto his side and his hip twinged sharply. He grimaced at the pain before he could stop himself and was then annoyed. He was turned back over onto his back and left alone on the bed. After only a minute or two though a phial of pain potion was pressed to his lips and he gratefully drank the unpleasant tasting substance. At last, he thought.

Harry heard the bathroom door being opened and then it didn't open again, he had been left alone. He heard water being poured and knew that he had been left alone to rest; he felt like calling out that he didn't want to rest.

After a while Harry was joined in the bed by an undressed body, he had been drifting off to sleep again when he felt the pressure rest on the other side of the mattress. Harry reached out a hand and laid it on an arm, then he reached over and examined a bare waist.

"Please, the potion has worked well," Harry pleaded. He knew that he sounded pathetic, begging for sex, but he had never known a better opportunity in his whole life. Marius had returned to him and was lying down in his bed, he recognised the familiar scent, he was possessed of a body that was used to this kind of attention and his partner must be used to giving him what he needed. For his first time it was advantageous and unique, the joy of a first with the pleasure and ease of experience.

The man beside him came closer and Harry felt that he was more ready for him than he had anticipated. Harry felt himself being positioned, he was turned over onto his front but a little tilted to one side and it didn't hurt his hip this time. His lover got out of bed and returned with pillows which he used to cradle Harry's body comfortably in the right position to make it easier for both of them. His lover then spooned with him from behind and began to show him that he understood his wishes entirely.


	5. The Morning After

**Chapter 5 The Morning After**

Harry woke the next morning feeling languid and fulfilled. He found that he only had a little bit of a headache from the alcohol and sunlight was coming through the crack in the curtains just the way it had done the morning before. He opened his eyes and looked about the room, he was still in his thirty-year-old self, and he had just received a jolly good seeing to. Somehow it nearly made the rest of it worthwhile.

Harry was lying slightly on his side but mostly on his back now and the supporting pillows had been removed. He tried to turn over onto his back so that he could sit up, his hip still ached a bit as he did so but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been the previous day. He almost forgot about his painful hip as soon as he noticed it because he noticed something else too. As he had tried to turn he found that his back had come to rest against warm skin.

Harry grinned to himself; Marius had not run off in the morning like his other lover had, he was still there. Harry reached over behind him and caressed the warm smooth skin of his lover's arm, he felt his lover stir beneath his touch.

Harry managed to get himself turned over so that he could look at his lover while he still slept. The body lying beside him was long and slim; the muscles of his back well defined enough to save him from being scrawny. He felt like waking his lover up so that he could perhaps enjoy some more intimacy before breakfast. Harry pulled himself up on an elbow to peer over at his lover and froze solid. It wasn't Marius lying next to him in the bed, the man he now lay with had short half grey hair and what was worse was that it was severely receding. His lover was almost bald and he had to be at least fifty, Harry didn't know exactly, a small strip of hair around the head and a mass of shiny round scalp would make anyone look old. It wasn't Marius though, that was for sure.

To Harry's further horror his lover began to wake before he had a chance to get over the fact that it wasn't Marius. Harry tried his best to compose his face as the man reached a hand out behind him to gently caress Harry before slipping out of the bed and heading for the bedroom.

All the time his lover was in the bathroom Harry stared at the door wondering what on earth he was going to do. What on earth had his older self been thinking of, getting him into this situation in the first place? He knew that he would have to be civil, that wouldn't be hard, but he had to decide whether he was going to even attempt to maintain the relationship or whether he was now going to have to break it off with him. Harry seemed to wait an age for him to come out of the bathroom.

Even after all the attempts he had made to compose himself Harry could only stare with wide eyes when his lover eventually emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel tied about his waist. He was tall and thin, his hair had been washed, what was left of it and he rubbed at it with another towel over his head. The towel round his waist dropped to the floor suddenly leaving Harry with nothing left for his imagination to conjure.

"Don't stare at me like that Harry," His lover said, sounding hurt and dejected when he apparently glanced out from beneath the towel to see Harry's expression, the towel was still hiding his head from Harry, though he made no hurry to cover anything else. The voice had sounded worryingly familiar.

"Sorry," Harry hurriedly said turning away and trying to think of something to make it better, trying to ignore who the man had sounded like.

"I wouldn't stare at you," His lover continued.

Harry looked down at himself and realised that the sheet was barely covering his feet and his shrivelled useless little legs were plainly in sight, he self-consciously pulled the sheet up.

His lover was putting on his clothes and he leant over and took up a wig in his hands once he was dressed and began to arrange it on his head in front of the mirror. Harry could see the all too familiar look unfolding in front of his eyes; it was Snape.

Harry hardly had a second to process the horrifying information before Snape turned towards him and sat on the bed.

"I suppose I should give this thing a good scrub sometime soon, it's covered in potion," Severus grumbled almost to himself, "The bathroom is all yours," he added in a rather familiar commanding tone before leaning towards Harry and planting a brief and light kiss upon his lips, and then gently, almost seductively, "I will see you at breakfast, don't be late."

Snape then left the room in a swish of robes in a way that was so typically Snape that it left Harry feeling that everything else that had just happened had been merely a figment of his imagination; had it not been for the fact that his lips were still slightly moist from the kiss.

Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand in something of a daze. The identity of his lover had rather settled the case, Harry began to think after a good number of minutes, he would have to finish the affair and quickly. There was no way that he could continue a relationship with Snape no matter how hard he might try to act the part. This lunchtime there definitely would be a 'very important matter' to discuss.

First of all, Harry tried to convince himself, he still had the rest of the morning to deal with and Snape hadn't been at all subtle about his need to cleanse himself. Harry looked around the bedroom and concluded that it certainly wasn't Snape who laid his clothes out for him neatly. The previous day's clothes were in a tangled heap on the armchair where presumably Marius had left them before he had abandoned him to his fate the night before.

Marius, however, had left him the wheelchair positioned neatly by the bed and Harry shuffled into it. He then made for the bathroom.

Harry found in the bathroom that although there were bars on the wall next to the toilet there was nothing at all to help him out with the bath or the sink. Harry felt instantly irritated, at least if he had been managing like this for twelve years then he would know what to do, as it was he had no idea and he wasn't in a position to ask. He might have considered not bothering, only Snape would know instantly, that was something he could rely on.

"Harry! Severus sent me," A voice called from the living area of his accommodation.

"In here!" Harry called back. Harry was almost relieved to hear the voice of Marius till he realised that he was completely naked, he was in daylight and he wasn't drunk any more.

"You are keen today," Marius said appearing in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Can you pass me a towel?" Harry asked quickly before Marius had a chance to come any further.

Marius tossed Harry a towel and a pair of boxers, "I see you are about as organised as usual despite initial impressions," he commented as he came into the room, "Cover yourself up and tell me when you're ready."

Harry relaxed a bit, Marius was obviously there to help and he had gone out into the bedroom to let him at least retain a small amount of modesty.

Harry managed to obtain a bath with relative ease thanks to Marius' shrinking trick and lifting skills, he thought he might even make it down to breakfast on time. As he had soaked in the bath Harry had wondered why it was that Marius did all the practical things if Snape was his lover. Not that he actually wanted Snape to do anything with him like that, but it was a bit odd that all he did was wander in after the lights were out and shag him, then leave again in the morning before he was even out of bed.

When Harry returned to the bedroom he found that Marius had sorted out his clothes for the day and when he had managed to get dressed they both made their way down to breakfast. Outwardly at least Harry was ready to face another day.

Harry joined Snape at the teacher's table as he had done the morning before and noted that Snape's behaviour was exactly the same. Harry had to wonder what Snape had been up to while he was still at school and Snape had been his Potions Professor, since he was so good at hiding things. Harry himself wanted to grin from ear to ear but then it had been his first time and he did keep forgetting that it must have been with Snape.

Harry sobered his expression somewhat by forcing himself to remember that he was going to spend lunchtime breaking off the relationship.

Harry turned solemnly to Snape once they only had their coffee left to enjoy, "I have a very important matter that I would like to discuss, at lunch in your quarters," he told Snape.

Snape smirked, it was almost undetectable, "Very well Professor Potter, I look forward to it." He said before swooping away in a flurry of cloak.

Harry heard Marius snigger beside him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What, what?" Marius responded still smiling to himself.

"What is so funny about my having something to discuss with Snape?" Harry asked with an amount of impatience.

"You're serious? Oh, come on, everybody except the first years know that 'an important matter to discuss' is just code for a big snog, really Harry."

Harry paled, he had intended to use the lunchtime meeting to dump Snape but it seemed that he had just promised him a midday tongue sandwich.

"But he said it yesterday and I didn't get one!" Harry said trying to sound as if he was complaining.

"Don't tell me about it, I'm not your boyfriend. You would think that after all these years you might give up on that silly game, but I suppose Severus' demeanour and past history requires it, he at least has to pretend not to be completely soft on you or we would never keep any order around here." Marius commented.

Harry was still stuck on the phrase 'all these years' and hardly heard the rest.

"Harry, are you all right?" Marius suddenly asked, "Severus told me that you had some pain last night."

Harry supposed that he must be looking a little pale, "I'm fine," he quickly lied. He had thought that dumping Snape would be one of the easier things in his new life but it was turning into perhaps the hardest.

Harry finished his breakfast; he knew that he had plenty of time before his first class. Marius stayed with him but finished a little quicker and with one last slurp of coffee he departed for the dungeons to see if any of his students had completed any of their homework yet.

Harry thought that it was a bit soon to be expecting completed parchments to have been delivered to his office but when he reached his own there was a small pile in front of his office door. He had only a small amount of time left before the first class and students that were this keen would surely expect him to be just as speedy at marking them. Perhaps, he thought with a wicked smirk, he could take house points away for rushing the assignment. Harry had to shake himself, he realised, one shag with Snape and he was turning into him, that had been one of his favourites, taking points away for stupid reasons.

Harry positioned himself behind his desk and arranged the homework parchments in front of him. He chose the one with the neatest handwriting to read first.

The essay began with a brief statement about the death of Voldemort and continued from there. Although it filled Harry in a little bit about how peaceful things had been in the past twelve years it did not let him know what he had been doing during that time. There was no detail about how Voldemort was killed or how he had ended up like he was now, Harry found, just all sorts of accounts of where Death Eaters were captured and what happened to them at trial. Harry had to admit to himself that he should have asked for an account of the war, it would have been far more useful. As things were, it seemed as if he had gone from mysteriously defeating Voldemort to being a teacher at Hogwarts with little detail in-between.

Harry was interrupted from reading another account by a knock on his door. When the student entered he stepped forward and nervously placed a permission parchment on his desk. By the time the student left Harry was too irritated to read another account and it was nearly time for the first class anyway. Harry promised himself that he was going to put an end to the permission slip nonsense.

Once Harry was sure that most of his students were in place he positioned himself by his desk at the front of the class.

"We will begin this morning with something not in the least bit related to Defence," Harry announced, "If any of you have any permission parchments for Hogsmeade with you then you can bring them to me now and not keep disturbing me at all hours of the day when I am trying to mark your work."

A few of the students glanced at each other nervously but quite a few also searched in their bags too. Within a minute or two Harry had a small pile of parchments from both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors and he was quite determined that he would do the same at all the other classes he took until he had them all.

The dread Harry felt at the prospect of breaking off his relationship with Snape only served to make the morning pass more quickly. It seemed that he only had the time to run through the briefest of practicals on the Stunning Spell and the clock had jumped to mid morning. Another session teaching the Patronus to a group of seventh year students and he was perilously close to the awful deed.

Harry was halfway along the way to the Headmaster's quarters when he began to have doubts about going through with it at all. He couldn't believe he had a single doubt but several popped into his mind. Maybe it was just his brain trying to reverse him out of having to face a terrible task but he had never had much trouble with reckless bravery before.

He thought he ought to consider that for some reason his older self had chosen to be with Snape and what would he do when he swapped again and Snape was in the worst mood of his life, supposing that not being Harry's boyfriend any more would put Snape in a bad mood.

Also he was beginning to think of things that would make such a relationship tolerable. He couldn't help admitting that the sex had been very nice before he knew who it had been with. He was annoyed with himself for being so addled with drink that he hadn't opened his eyes and had just lain there taking it all, assuming that it was Marius.

Then there was giving himself the best chance of getting back. If Ron didn't have any bright ideas then Snape might be his only other hope, if and when he ever figured out if he could trust him or not. He didn't have any hope of getting help from Snape if he upset him, he knew that well enough from past experience.

Harry found himself at the stairs to the Headmaster's quarters and he let out a heartfelt sigh as he looked up. He still didn't know what in Merlin's name he was going to do.


	6. Breaking It Off

**Chapter 6 Breaking It Off**

Harry was outside the door, he had got up the stairs and now his hand was frozen in place against the surface of the door. He had been about to knock but he realised just in time that he didn't need to knock, indeed it was safest not to.

Harry muttered the password and wheeled silently into the Headmaster's quarters. Snape was at his desk and in the few seconds before he realised Harry was there he saw the most unguarded view of Snape Harry had ever seen. He looked worn and tired, he had parchments strewn all over the desk and he couldn't have looked more disinterested in them.

Harry watched as Snape looked up and noticed that he was there, a glimmer of a smile crossed Snape's face, Snape sat slightly more upright and a small amount of weight lifted off his shoulders. To someone who hadn't been watching Snape for years it might have seemed more like a grimace. Harry frowned to himself, since when had he decided to admit that he had been watching Snape for years?

Snape stood up from his desk and approached Harry. Harry was quite prepared to refuse to stand up if Snape pushed him to, but all resolve to end their affair had dissolved the moment he had seen Snape's spirits lift at the sight of him.

Was he stupidly brave enough to allow their relationship to go ahead, he knew he wasn't brave enough to crush it. Snape came to stand in front of Harry and before Harry knew what was happening Snape had sunk to his knees in front of him. Their eye levels now matched and Harry thought that it was a pleasant turn of events considering how domineering Snape had been so far.

Snape reached a hand out to Harry and gently cupped his face, Snape was regarding Harry with something like adoration in his eyes, either that or Harry's imagination was playing some very cruel tricks on him.

Snape suddenly leant in to kiss Harry and Harry couldn't help jumping a little but he forced himself to relax. The first kiss had been an announcement of intent, merely a peck. The next one was gentle but exploratory. Maybe because somewhere underneath it all he was still a teenager Harry felt his body respond to the attention with lightning speed. Snape kissed him luxuriously next, long and slow. Harry felt his tongue wandering, searching out the bliss of the previous night despite knowing who his partner was. Harry could feel all sorts of intense feelings surging through him. When Snape stopped kissing him he felt bereft at the loss and leant forward to continue it.

Snape stood up and waved his wand over Harry, whatever Snape had done, he did it silently. It wasn't till Harry glanced down at himself that he realised that he had got smaller, unsurprisingly Snape knew the shrinking trick too.

Snape leant over and put Harry's arms round his neck; he then lifted Harry up into his arms and held him cradled against his chest. Somehow when Snape did it, it seemed like part of the seduction. Marius was all full of bustle and fuss when he helped. Snape kissed him on the forehead as they moved across the room.

The seating was different in Snape's living quarters; the armchair that Harry had sat in the previous night had been replaced by a deep red velvet chaise longue. Snape lowered Harry onto the chair and Harry allowed himself to lie back as Snape undid the first few buttons of his robes. Snape then returned him back to his proper size, then brushed a hand gently across Harry's neck and then ducked down to kiss him there. The skin was sensitive and the little nips that were Snape's kisses lit a fire within Harry. Harry didn't want to lie on a chaise longue; he wanted to be taken off to bed. Did he have time to get thoroughly ravished during a lunch break?

Harry briefly thought that anybody could use the password and come in to find them. Then he thought that the best way to get sex during a lunch break was to take charge and up the pace.

"Bed, now!" Harry attempted to command.

Snape stopped kissing him, "No Harry, we're all right here," He replied firmly.

Of course Harry had no bargaining power if stating his wishes didn't count for anything, he was forced to go along with whatever Snape had already got planned.

Harry closed his eyes; Snape was caressing him with both hands up and down his body and kissing his neck still. Harry thought he might burst from the feelings that were running through him.

Snape undid some more of Harry's buttons, caressing Harry's bare chest once he got to it. Harry felt suddenly guilty for not giving any pleasure in return. He griped his hand in Snape's long dark hair and attempted to throw the wig aside. It didn't move.

"Hey!" Snape snapped stopping his kissing, "That's my hair, be gentle!"

Harry couldn't believe this was happening, "It wasn't your hair this morning!"

"You know I only keep it Muggle short in the summer, I changed it back to normal this morning. Can't go round wearing a wig with students about, can I? One mischievous summoning charm and my reputation would be in tatters forever." Snape replied.

Thinking on his feet, which would have been jelly by now anyway even if he didn't have a much more permanent problem, Harry replied, "Well you could have told me you were turning it back to normal today and I wouldn't have yanked it."

"You can run your hands through it if you like," Snape suggested, "It hasn't got any potion spills on it yet."

Harry felt as if their little bubble of seduction had burst until Snape caught him up in a luxurious kiss again and it was as if they had never paused.

Harry ran his hands through Snape's hair as requested and he found that he must have done something right because suddenly Snape's head had dropped and his hands were undoing the rest of Harry's robes.

Harry felt a hot breath on his abdomen and he let his head fall back limply as he felt his underpants being pulled down. Of all the discussions he had ever had in the Headmaster's office this was perhaps the most bizarre and possibly the best. Discussions where Snape was present were usually quite the opposite, but then he had stopped talking which helped a lot. He was still demonstrating how good he was with his mouth though.

Far too soon it was all over. Snape stood up looking rather flushed, he waved his wand over himself and his colour returned to normal.

"Right, lunch," Snape announced in a brisk manner which left Harry wondering if he had just dreamed what had happened.

He looked down at himself in disbelief; he was still exposed and wet. He waved his own wand to clean himself up as he had done countless times in bed on his own and then proceeded to fasten his robes again. Snape had left him stranded on the chaise longue so all he could do was pull himself up to sitting as soon as he was redressed and wait for lunch.

Harry was pleased to find that Snape really was having a 'be nice to Harry' day; he brought over a tray with his lunch on it and laid it on his lap. He returned for his own and came to sit opposite Harry in the chair he had used the previous night.

Harry had half an hour left to him to eat his lunch so there was very little chat as he ate. When they had finished Snape brought the chair over to the chaise longue and left Harry to get into it by himself. With the seduction now over, so apparently, were the lifting duties.

Harry left Snape at his desk, once more scowling over the litter of parchments upon it. He couldn't help smiling to himself despite everything. Voldemort was dead, the thought came to him, the idea was starting to sink in, he was really dead. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so motivated to get back to his old life as he had before, maybe the feeling would wear off along with the warm glow of recent sex.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon taking lessons; he was getting into the swing of it and with teaching the DA the previous school year he had plenty of ideas on what to teach. It also became obvious during the course of the day that he really had been teaching defence for some time; the older students knew all the things that he knew to be essential.

It didn't seem long before he was in the hall again awaiting his evening meal while all the students flooded in their faces animated in chatter. Marius was already sat at his side but Harry noted that Snape still hadn't appeared.

"So did you discuss that important matter?" Marius asked close to Harry's ear.

Harry felt himself redden, "Yes, we came to an agreement," He answered.

Marius smirked, "A bet you did!"

Harry thought his face was burning, "Shut up!"

"Hey, you're blushing," Marius whispered to Harry's ear, "Who would have thought that you could still blush, it must have been good."

"Ah, two school boys sniggering like little girls! Oh, but wait, this is the teacher's table, it cannot be so," Severus drawled on Harry's other side, making him jump.

Marius tried to pull himself back together into a more respectable demeanour in front of Snape so Harry tried to do the same.

It seemed that they did spend every evening with Snape, as the meal came to a close Snape left the table, once again informing them when he required their presence.

Harry felt determined to stay sober this time and stay in control of what happened. He didn't yet know whether that meant he would let Snape have sex with him again or not. However he hadn't been intentionally trying for it this lunchtime and it had happened anyway. It had been inevitable the second Snape's expert hands had touched him. Harry didn't want to think about how many years of experience had led to Snape knowing him so well.

Marius was suddenly waving a hand in front of Harry's face, "Come on, stop grinning to yourself, we need to get our marking and get up there."

Once he was back in the Headmaster's office Harry accepted a drink and sipped at it slowly. He definitely didn't want to be out of it again. The chaise longue had disappeared and the armchairs were back again. Harry stayed in his own chair and let Marius and Snape have the armchairs.

Snape got three quills and ink from his desk and to Harry's surprise took some of Marius' marking to do himself. It seemed that the evening meetings were more a friendly helping hand than a penance. Snape was just keeping his hand in with the teaching even though he was now Headmaster.

Snape drank more quickly than Marius; Harry hadn't noticed that the night before. As time went on Snape's comments became ever more scathing. Marius sniggered at Snape's scathing comments just as he had sniggered at Harry's embarrassment earlier.

When the marking was over Harry assumed that they might be able to relax again like the previous night. He wondered if Snape would read them some more poetry.

"I have had a reply from Weasley regarding the Hogsmeade weekends, he still refuses to give in," Marius suddenly complained.

"Well there is a surprise!" Snape commented in response, "I suppose I should pay him a visit and explain it to him in person, though I imagine that is exactly as he wants it."

Harry's attention had been aroused at the mention of a Weasley. Now the excitement of his lunchtime adventure had receded he felt more focused on his ultimate goal again. It was his greatest wish to find Ron, it seemed to be his way forward and this seemed to be his opportunity.

"He says it isn't up to him to restrict the purchasing of certain items of his stock, that we should be solely responsible for the banning of those items we don't want on school grounds," Marius continued.

Snape was not impressed, "Knowing full well that as soon as we ban something it will become three times as popular."

"I could go," Harry found himself volunteering. He didn't even know if the chair would work outside of the school grounds and the road down to Hogsmeade was very steep and rocky, but he had done it now, he had had to take his chance.

Snape frowned, looking puzzled by Harry's suggestion, "You could go in the morning, you have a free period I believe. You had better wrap up warm," Snape replied after some thought.

"Are you sure Harry?" Marius asked with concern in his eyes, "I know you don't like to go down there."

"The surprise of someone he's not expecting might swing the matter in our favour," Harry suggested, again thinking on his feet with the glimpses of his current life from Marius.

"Very well," Snape replied.

Harry thought he might be imagining it, but Snape still didn't seem very happy with the idea and he couldn't help feeling touched that he had warned him to wrap up warm. Could it be that Snape didn't just have sex with him, he actually cared?

He was going to be meeting a member of the Weasley family in the morning, Harry thought with glee, it looked like he would let Snape shag him come bedtime, it might well be his last night in this hellish future. It might not be much, but having sex with Snape was still a lot more than what he would be getting when he got back.

Later that night Harry completed a patrol with Snape. Harry had managed to stay reasonably sober and, to please Snape; he had completed all of his marking and agreed to check the corridors for out of bed students.

After spending a good portion of an hour scouring the dark corridors Snape became content that all was quiet and made off towards the corridor where Harry's quarters were situated. Harry wondered if Snape ever stayed in his own accommodation.

"Is your hip hurting tonight, you haven't mentioned?" Snape asked as they reached the top of the stairs and turned into the final corridor.

Harry took this to mean 'do you want sex tonight', "My hip is fine, quite good," Harry answered.

Severus reached inside his robes and took out a potion phial, "Maybe you should take this anyway, it was only a day ago and I wouldn't want to make it worse."

Harry stopped pushing the chair and looked up at Snape; he took the potion from him and drank it. Only after he had drunk it did Harry wonder what it contained. Was it only a pain potion or something else as well? Well it was too late to be suspicious, he thought telling himself off. Snape could have been drugging him into compliance for all he knew. Though, Harry then remembered, he had been thinking about having sex all day anyway.

When they entered Harry's quarters Snape headed straight for the bathroom. Harry very soon felt glad of it, seductive lifting was one thing, but at this late hour he had to get undressed for bed too and that would have involved a lot more embarrassment if Snape had been involved.

Harry had to peal each piece of clothing off, each bit taking more than twice as long as it normally would. Then there were the stockings and the leg braces which he had to remember to leave on until he had managed to get laying down on the bed. By the time he had discovered that he was lying on top of the covers and had dragged them from underneath him he was thoroughly exhausted. Maybe, he thought, he should just keep getting drunk and then Marius would come with him to do the going to bed bit.

After a while Snape came out of the bedroom to find Harry sitting up in bed. Harry had been waiting for him in what he hoped was an alert and eager fashion. Snape had a towel round his waist and was rubbing at his now shoulder length black hair with another towel. The towel round Snape's waist didn't fall away this time but as Snape approached the bed he pulled it off anyway.

Harry couldn't help noticing that Snape was already quite aroused; he hadn't been having a cold shower in the bathroom it seemed. Harry found that he was rapidly becoming quite aroused too.

Without words having to be said, Snape acquired a number of pillows from a cupboard on the other side of the room. He threw them onto the bed and then slid under the covers beside Harry.

Snape leant over Harry and kissed him, the gentle chaste peck first and then the rest. With each kiss Snape placed another pillow or moved Harry. Harry suspected that Snape was using his wand to levitate him at times, the turning over seemed to happen quite easily. He couldn't say for sure though, he was too lost in the pleasure of Snape's mouth, determined to explore every inch while it was available to him. Soon Harry was lying on his front comfortably supported by pillows, Snape was above him kissing his shoulders, Harry knew what was coming next.


	7. Finding Ron

**Chapter 7 Finding Ron**

Morning came sooner than Harry could have expected. He had thought that he would lie awake half the night in anticipation of his visit to Hogsmeade but he had slept as soundly as he did any other night. He was actually sleeping much better than he normally did, he hadn't had so much as a twitch out of his scar the whole time he had been sleeping with Snape. Although Snape did seem to be having a soothing influence on him, Harry thought, he would have to put the quiet scar down to the fact that Voldemort really was dead.

When Harry managed to get sitting up he noticed that Snape had once again left him on his own, to his left were his clothes all neatly folded up on the armchair and there was no sign of Marius. So, Harry supposed, he must have a bath on alternative days and use a cleaning charm on the days he wasn't having a bath.

Harry went through the laborious process of getting dressed and then searched in the wardrobe for a cloak. Once he had found a short wool cloak he placed it on his lap and left for breakfast, he would go to Hogsmeade straight away after he had eaten, thus giving him as much time as possible.

Harry began to have doubts about Hogsmeade even before he had finished his breakfast. Snape was missing from their table, Harry hated to admit even to himself that it bothered him, but it did. Marius was also very quiet; there was no camaraderie, no joking and laughing. Was the village full of Dementors? Harry had to wonder what on earth he was walking into. Was he imagining the tenseness in the air between him and Marius? It was all so ridiculous; he was going to a sweet shop to talk to the proprietor about sweets, what could possibly go wrong with that?

Harry was eager to leave the hall and he departed on his way to Hogsmeade as soon as he could get away. He had only got as far as the courtyard however, when a tall bat like man loomed at him from behind a pillar.

"Ah, Professor Potter! Attempting to leave the grounds without being properly dressed for the outdoors, I thought as much." Snape announced.

Harry couldn't make out whether Snape was joking or was being serious and deranged, "I have my cloak," Harry defended "And I am wearing it."

To Harry's horror Snape produced from behind his back a black watch tartan woollen blanket, he then lay it over Harry's lap and legs and tucked it in all around him, "There, now you won't have persistent and throbbing bone pain when you get back, unlike last time." Snape criticized before swooping back inside the castle.

As Snape ascended the stairs he found that two of the women in one of the paintings were talking about him, "That is so sweet, looking after him like that," One said to the other.

"I know, who would have thought," The other replied.

"Shut up, the lot of you!" Snape snapped at them as he stormed past.

"Hey Snape! Show us your Patronus!" A drunken man in another painting jeered at Snape as he passed by. All the other paintings laughed riotously at this and Snape began to take the steps two at a time.

Once in the sanctuary of his office Snape breathed a sigh of relief, he was glad it wasn't every day that the paintings got themselves overexcited like this. He looked up to find Dumbledore looking down at him with a faint smile upon his face and a glint in his eye.

"Don't you start!" Snape snapped in a way that would have made virtually all of the students cower.

Dumbledore merely smiled a knowing smile.

Harry looked down at his lap with the blanket laid upon him. He had to admit that it felt very cosy, but that just wasn't the point. He looked around him at the open sky and felt scared. He hadn't been outside since he had ended up in this ridiculous situation but it might have been even longer for his older self, there certainly wasn't anything very welcoming about the dark and rain filled sky.

Harry wheeled the chair towards Hogsmeade and it coped very well with the bare rocks, he was descending smoothly towards the village whereas on foot he had always ended up tripping on something.

Once in the village Harry began to look for the sweet shop. Things had changed quite a bit and nothing was where it used to be. He was being stared at, he was quite used to that, but it seemed different. Whenever he turned to look at someone, mostly with the intention of asking where the sweet shop was, they turned away. Nobody wanted to make eye contact with him. Where there had been the noise of the bustle of everyday life now the streets were a lot quieter. All around Harry there was thinly veiled hostility; it was almost as palpable in the air as the feeling of an oncoming Dementor attack.

What, Harry wondered, had he done to deserve this? He knew that he had killed Voldemort, he was fairly sure that he must have sacrificed himself physically in the process, what more did these people want?

Harry found the sweet shop and went inside, to be amongst the Weasleys again for a while would be an incalculable relief after what should have been a fairly easy journey through the village.

Inside the shop there was a little boy, he was only a few years old and he had head of wavy ginger hair. Harry let the door close behind him knowing that he must be in the right place. The boy stared at Harry and it was like having a very young Ron stare at him.

"What's your name?" Harry asked gently.

"My name's Sam, what's yours?" The little boy replied.

"My name is Harry," Harry replied, not wanting to scare the boy by using the title of Professor Potter.

Sam looked a little bit wary at the sound of the name 'Harry' but he didn't run away.

"Is your mother or father here? I would like to speak to one of them." Harry asked.

"Mum's away," The boy replied, "She works for the Ministry," He added proudly, "Dad's in the back."

"Can you get Dad for me?" Harry asked.

Harry felt his nerves rise up in him; he felt almost certain that 'Dad' had to be Ron, the boy looked so much like him. He wondered who the boy's mummy was, since he had always thought that Ron was, like himself, otherwise inclined.

Harry supposed that little Sam must have told his father who was there because he came through to the shop with lightning speed. An older Ron was standing behind the counter of the shop so quickly it was almost as if he had apparated the short distance across the building.

"I see, if Mr Weasley won't bow to pressure from one house head, they merely send another," Ron said stiffly before turning to Sam who had come back through to the shop, "Samuel, this is Professor Potter, you know, the Professor at Hogwarts that we told you about."

Harry was quite prepared to talk to the child, even if it was about the war that his other self had won, but at the introduction from his father the boys eyes went wide with fear and he ran into the back of the shop again. Harry suddenly wasn't convinced that the visit was going to go very well.

"I was sent to talk about the Hogsmeade weekends but there is another thing I want to talk about too," Harry began.

"Hmph," Ron replied unenthusiastically, "Say your piece about the sweets, then you can go."

"The other matter is of a personal nature," Harry tried to persuade Ron. He wondered that the argument over the student's sweets had become so serious that they had managed to fall out over it. Though if Ron was selling his brother's sweets then Severus and Marius might have a point about wanting them banned, especially if they had gotten worse over the years.

"A personal nature?" Ron scoffed loudly, "You've nearly got my interest there Potter!"

Harry swallowed nervously; he had some serious wounds to heal with Ron it seemed, "Will you give in about the ban?" Harry asked.

"No," Ron stated.

"There, well I tried, I used all of my persuasive powers and I failed to convince you to see sense," Harry sighed, "I will regretfully have to report back to Marius that I failed."

Ron merely regarded Harry with suspicion, "Is that it?" Ron asked apprehensively. Harry saw Ron's hand go to his wand, Harry couldn't understand what he had just done, it seemed that Ron took his verbal dismissal of the matter as a threat.

"Well, yes," Harry replied cautiously, keeping an eye on Ron's wand hand all the time, "I wasn't really bothered about the sweets; I just said that I would come so that I could talk to you about this other thing."

"Which would be?" Ron demanded all the while standing completely still except for the hand that clenched and unclenched around his wand.

"I have not gone for my wand," Harry made a point of stating, "What is it that you're going to do with yours?"

"Just in case," Ron said not backing down and certainly not taking his eyes off Harry.

"What would I do to you?" Harry asked, "We were friends weren't we?"

Ron scoffed at that, "We were friends? Once, a long time ago. It is so typical of you Potter, to suddenly, after all this time, bring up a friendship long dead and expect credit for it. As if nothing that has happened since ever made a difference at all."

Harry was completely out of his depth but he had to carry on. He had to think fast and pick up on whatever clues he was given. It would seem that he had upset Ron a long time ago, so maybe it had something to do with the war and Voldemort, "I killed him don't forget," Harry said using the only thing he knew, "I mean I killed the Dark Lord for you all just as I was supposed to. I fought the war the only way I could and here we all are. He was the evil one we all wanted dead wasn't he?"

"Oh yea, you killed the Dark Lord, or so you say. And now you can do anything you want, you and that bat, and we all have to humbly bow and be eternally grateful." Ron spat at him bitterly, "How long will it be before we are allowed to forget?"

At least, Harry thought, it did have something to do with the war, "He said that I would lose everything," Harry suddenly reflected out loud, "I suppose he must have been right. I did what I had to do. Look at me, do I look like someone who can do anything he wants?"

Ron sneered at Harry and didn't reply.

"And here you are with your family and a shop to run, and a wife who works for the Ministry," Harry pointed out to Ron since his former friend was starting to irritate him, "Poor you."

"Yea, the only family I have left, the only person in the world who would have me and the only son she gave me. Wasn't how I wanted it, you might recall," Ron said almost as if he was softening for a second.

Harry knew that it was true. They had been friends officially but Harry had wanted it to be more and he had almost been certain that Ron had too. It was why he had so looked forward to the beginning of the new term as he had endured that most recent and painful last summer with the Dursleys. Now he knew the truth, seemingly many years too late, "I didn't want it this way either, seems my life has never been my own however," Harry added hoping to soften Ron further.

Rather than having the desired effect Harry saw with horror that Ron stiffened again, "Though your life seemed to be your own when you read out that letter," He accused.

Of course Harry didn't have a clue what Ron was talking about, "Surely we can put the past behind us and at least enjoy a beer together now?" Harry offered.

Ron laughed bitterly, "You really have some nerve, I have to admit Potter. Not a chance in hell."

"But Ron, we were friends, the best of friends. You remember my birthday, you sent me the most wonderful presents, a wishing potion, do you remember?" Harry asked almost pleading with Ron now.

Ron scowled, "Yea, I remember, the last one. Did you take it?"

"Yes, I did, the day of my birthday."

"Tell me, Harry, did you get everything that you wished for?" Ron spat.

"I'm not sure," Harry flustered.

"Biggest mistake I ever made," Ron told Harry, "When I think of what came next."

"Ron I..." Harry mumbled not knowing what else he could say.

"I think you had better leave now," Ron said grimly but firmly dismissing Harry, "Go back to your Slytherins where you belong."

Harry could only remain rooted to the spot, Slytherins?

"Why are you still here?" Ron snapped.

"I am still the same Harry who you knew in those first few years at school, Ron, please..." Harry begged.

"Are you still friends with Marius Meier?" Ron asked.

"Yes, he is my friend," Harry admitted.

"See, you don't even deny it, you're still hanging out with Death Eaters and you don't deny it. So much for killing the Dark Lord, you just wanted the power for yourself and that isn't the Harry I once knew."

"He's not a Death Eater!" Harry attempted to defend.

"Ex Death Eaters then, not much difference, it's all the same in the end, isn't it Harry? Just names, you can change them but what is inside is what counts."

Harry did some more speechless staring.

"Get out now," Ron said quietly and pointed to the door.

Not knowing what to say or do Harry turned the chair round and left the sweet shop.

Harry pushed the chair all the way back to Hogwarts without giving any of the people in Hogsmeade any attention as he went. He wasn't interested in them anymore, he knew their story, knew their resentment of him. He had to find out what it was that he had done and Ron was not going to tell him since he should know it already. That left the library and whatever book or old copies of The Prophet he could lay his hands on. The Prophet had never been worth relying on but, Harry forced himself to realise, the newspaper wasn't a sentient being and wasn't going to find it suspicious that he was asking and was therefore one of the few options still left open to him. He would just have to read between the lines.

Harry passed through into the hallway next to the entrance to the great hall and came upon Professor Meier. Harry looked up at the dark long haired man and thought about what Ron had said, searching for some sign of Draco under what must have to be a pretty deep glamour, if indeed Ron's words could be trusted. Was Marius really the blond Slytherin trying to conceal his Death Eater identity in this post Voldemort world? It would explain their childhood familiarity despite the fact that he didn't recognise him.

What had he done in his last years at school to end up estranged from Ron and what on earth had he done to earn the fear of the whole wizard population, though strangely still remaining suitable to teach their children?

Harry couldn't deal with Marius now, "I have to go to the library," Harry told him and wheeled away up the stairs and down the corridor before Marius could object.


	8. Finding Harry Potter

**Chapter 8 Finding Harry Potter**

To Harry's relief the library was quiet, anybody who wasn't in a class was studying in their common room. It was too early in the year for students to be researching through the library texts. The librarian was not somebody who Harry recognised and she paid him no notice as he came in. Harry found that, at that moment, he preferred it that way.

He stared up at the long columns of bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling and laden with past issues of The Prophet. He wondered if in his adult wizardhood he could perform requests of a greater complexity. First of all he cast a silencing charm over his area of the library.

"Accio Harry Potter articles in chronological order!" He called out as he waved his wand at the towering bookshelves.

Harry watched in awe as the relevant copies of The Prophet extricated themselves from the shelves without toppling the others. They arranged themselves in neat files on the table in front of him. While the hundreds of newspapers were still coming down Harry grabbed hold of everything from his first five years at Hogwarts and sent them back. He only needed everything from Sirius' death onwards.

First of all Harry flicked through the copies from the summer following Sirius' death, all the ones he had not seen because he had been at the Dursleys. At last they had acknowledged that his Godfather had been for the Light, but no posthumous apology could placate Harry. Before he could become more upset he moved on.

The next issue was from the days following his birthday. Harry scanned down to look at the headline and froze. 'Harry Potter's Muggle relatives Found Murdered' it read. Harry didn't understand, the protection over Privet Drive was supposed to prevent this, both for himself and for them. He read on, 'Harry Potter's relatives were yesterday found murdered in what appears to have been a Muggle attack. Fortunately The Boy Who Lived has escaped death once again, having been removed to Hogwarts the day before'. He must have gone out to Snape with his broken arm and ribs after all, Harry had to conclude.

And so the protection had been broken a year early, broken by a random attack, no doubt a burglary gone wrong. A gun had been used, the Dursleys had been found in their night clothes and most of the electrical equipment had been gone. A window was smashed and the back door lock forced open. Furniture and ornaments turned over and smashed. The dressing table in the Dursleys' bedroom ransacked whilst being searched for jewellery.

The next article came from the beginning of the new school year. This time there was a picture of the sixth year Harry Potter but Harry could hardly recognise the soul staring out from the page beneath the headline 'The Boy Who Lived Re-sorted Into Slytherin'. He looked stern and his face did not shift despite it being a moving photograph, a few hairs swayed and nothing more.

It was a shock to see it so soon, Harry now knew that he had ended up being Head of Slytherin House, but he had assumed that it must have happened later, maybe as a result of the trouble of the war. Certainly not so soon after the time he remembered. A change of that sort had certainly not been on his mind weeks before on his birthday. He wondered what could have happened, he wondered who had murdered the Dursleys, he doubted that it was as random as it was meant to look.

'Muggle police uncover years of abuse at Potter house' a Prophet in November announced. Harry could feel the sting of humiliation as if the paper was the current day's edition. He had been so worried about Snape finding out that he had forgotten about the torture it would be to live with the rest of the world knowing.

They had all known, Harry played it over and over in his head and couldn't ignore it. He sent all the Prophets back to their bookcases, he had a class to teach and it would have to wait till later. He had classes all day and then he had the evening marking session with Marius and Snape. No doubt he wouldn't be able to return to his research until morning.

Harry managed to get through his classes well enough, he only had to think of what he would have found useful to know and then tailor it to each age group. He would have been enjoying the teaching if it had not been for the frustration he felt at the lack of free time he had to sort his problem out. As it was, he vented his frustration on his students somewhat, restricting their free time by setting long essays as homework, hardly thinking of the consequences of having to mark them later in the week.

Once classes were over Harry went to sit back in his quarters for the half hour he had available to him. He felt tired and despondent, all he wanted to do was retire from company but he knew what was expected of him. He thought of Ron's words as he positioned himself at his desk. Had he got all that he wished for? The Dursleys had been killed almost immediately after his departure from their house, had he wished for it? Did Ron think he had? Then he had swapped to Slytherin, there was no doubt that Ron would have been upset by that, but why in Merlin had he done it, he definitely hadn't wished for that, it hadn't even crossed his mind.

Once his half hour of peace was up, Harry took all the returned homework assignments from his desk and placed them on his lap, he was going to need them for after the evening meal. He then headed off for dinner though he didn't feel hungry at all.

When Harry joined Marius and Snape up in the Headmaster's quarters after dinner, he felt surprisingly amenable to the nightly ritual. The whiskey was available again and Harry felt as if he needed it after the day he had had. Marius poured him a large glassful as they settled by the fire and Harry accepted it with relief. They had hardly exchanged a word all day but Marius remained quietly friendly and understanding. His friend was giving him space when he was obviously troubled; Harry found it hard at that moment, to believe that this might really be Draco in disguise.

Marius was handing Snape some essays to mark as he had requested and Harry took a large swig of the whiskey and let it hit the back of his throat with a warming burn. He then tried to turn his mind to his own marking before he got too drunk to read it; he envisaged having to be quick about it.

"So what was the essay you set the first years?" Snape asked Marius.

"'The Importance of The Chain of Authenticity In Potions', was supposed to be the title, have they not put that at the top of the parchments?" Marius replied.

Snape sighed, "Unsurprisingly, no," He replied taking an exasperated swig of his own whiskey.

Harry wondered how many of his Potions essays had been marked whilst Snape had been drunk. He watched Snape and Marius marking the essays, Snape scowled every now and then and then scrawled in the margins. Marius seemed to find errors more amusing and he rather uselessly hid his mirth behind a hand and then wrote his comments in the margins too.

"Nothing more amusing than the first essays," Marius commented eventually.

"If you say so," Snape replied sternly, "I personally find these rather disturbing, this is something that they ought to have known years ago from home schooling. Does not every wizard know that you don't take potions you can't confirm the origin of? Even if they somehow missed that very basic education from their parents, the first chapter of their textbook is dedicated to the matter, has been since I can remember. I could bet that even you can remember that Potter."

Harry was about to issue a glower when Marius stepped in.

"It is bad; all they had to do was copy out of the book and fill the essay out with examples, at the very least. I think we should go to plan B," Marius suggested.

"Yes, why not, I could do with a bit of fun," Snape agreed.

Fun? Harry wondered what was going on, what in Merlin's name constituted 'fun' for Snape. Were the two professors conspiring together on a prank?

Marius had a drawstring bag on the floor by his chair; he tipped the contents out onto his lap and sorted the potions into three piles. He handed Harry one of the piles.

Harry turned one of the potion phials over in his hand and found that the label was written in his own hand, they were dated the previous day, "I didn't make these," Harry complained.

"I am glad to see that you have learnt something since your school days," Snape commented in his old familiar way.

"We're going to see how many students take these, we're going to leave them lying around the common rooms," Marius explained with a glint in his eye, "If they do their hair will be bright yellow for a week."

"And they will earn themselves a detention for it too," Snape added.

"Isn't this a bit unfair," Harry complained.

"Oh Harry, you usually love a good laugh, has that Weasley boy been getting to you?" Marius asked.

"They have to learn one way or another, and the sooner the better, turning their hair yellow is perfectly harmless," Snape added, "Next time they take something they can't prove the source of, it could be far worse, a poison or a potion with more permanent effects."

Harry looked down at the potions on his lap, "It's an essay writing potion, a brief burst of intelligence."

Snape shrugged, "Well it has to be fairly tempting, how else could a poisoner hope to be able to tempt their victim."

"If we get any Seventh years turning up with yellow hair we will have to give them triple detention," Marius suggested, "They should definitely know better."

Harry paled; Snape would eat him alive if he told him his secret now. He would just have to find out what happened with Ron and put it right that way.

Harry had had enough for one day however, he wanted, no needed another drink. Maybe this was why Marius always berated him about the drinking; maybe he always needed a drink.

"Are you just going to hug those all night?" Marius asked, pointing to the ignored Defence essays lying forgotten in his lap.

Harry looked down at them and knew that there was a faint chance that one of them might tell him something exciting. There was also the possibility that one of them might tell how his life was even more horrible than he thought so far. Suddenly he didn't want to know, not just yet anyway.

"Harry?"

"I'll do them in the morning," Harry replied.

Marius approached him and stroked a hand through his hair affectionately. Harry had to try hard not to seem pleased. He looked up, but Snape didn't seem to mind Marius touching his lover.

To his horror Marius took the pile of essays from his lap and handed them to Snape. Snape merely gave them a glance and added them to the bottom of his own share of Marius' marking.

Harry quickly found himself sitting in the armchair again and Marius gave him the drink he craved without him having to ask for it. The other two Professors continued to work their way through the marking but Harry only drank. Then he drank some more and he watched as Snape reached the Defence essays.

A frown crossed Snape's face, "You really should let it go," Snape commented to Harry.

"The war?" Harry asked knowing that Snape was reading the essays he had set to find out what had happened.

"He will, when you do," Marius added to the discussion.

"The war was long ago," Snape dismissed.

Even Harry could read him enough to see that Snape was making light of something that still dominated his life. The war or something about the war still weighed heavily on Snape.

"Maybe you should both talk about it, either to each other or someone else, but make it the last time," Marius suggested.

Both Harry and Snape gave Marius the same defiant look.

"Fine, don't talk, don't let it go. Just carry on as you always have, letting it fester."

Snape merely made a grumbling noise, refreshed his drink and went back to the marking. Harry found himself making a similar noise and held his glass out to Marius to be refilled. He might have been tempted to press for a talk about the war if it had been only Snape who was meant to be talking.

Hours later Harry found himself back in his quarters and Snape was there. The drink hadn't warmed or numbed his mind like he had hoped it would. There was only one thing left to try.

When Snape came to bed Harry felt the bed move as he crawled under the covers. He pulled himself over with difficulty and some complaining about the disturbance from Snape. He placed a hand on Snape who had lain down on his front as if to go straight to sleep. Harry lent down and kissed his shoulder.

"Harry, no, you're drunk," Snape complained.

"Please," Harry whined, "I'm not that drunk, not more drunk than last time."

Snape sighed in irritation, "Maybe I am."

"What? And you can't? Oh... I see," Harry mumbled as he realised what Snape meant.

"Go to sleep."

Harry had a thought, he was about to turn over in disappointment and then he realised something, "I'm not too drunk," He announced pushing himself up against Snape as if to prove the point.

Snape sighed, "You can't do it like that."

"Yes, I can," Harry argued using his strong arms and a hold on the headboard to pull himself up again.

Snape didn't argue any more, Harry felt his body relax and he leant forward to press a kiss to the back of Snape's neck before he continued.


	9. Just Making Memories

**Chapter 9 Just Making Memories**

Harry woke the next morning with a head that felt like lead. Snape was still in the bed and Harry was still lying over the top of him as if they had finished having sex and fallen asleep in the same instant. Harry peeled himself away from Snape noting their sticky and sweaty skin. For once Snape was completely out of it asleep, on his front with his legs splayed wide apart and not a sheet in sight to cover them.

Harry struggled over to lie on his back on the other side of the bed. His life just kept getting more and more wonderful and somehow all he could succeed in doing was shagging Snape. Why couldn't he be wonderfully talented at getting himself out of this mess instead?

"Harry!" Marius called through from the living room.

Harry didn't have the time or the ability to get a sheet for either himself or Snape. It was the morning he had a bath and Marius was on his way through.

Harry had to admire Marius' skill and discretion. He looked momentarily surprised at the sight of Harry and Snape lying naked on the bed but had a sheet over them in an instant with one speedy swish of his wand.

"It's like walking in on your parents," Marius complained as he got Harry's things out of the wardrobe ready for his bath.

Snape didn't make it down to breakfast, though Harry did, just. Harry thought that it was just as well, he had just made things harder for himself. What did you say to Snape in conversation after you have just topped him the night before? Judging by Snape's doubt at his ability to do so it must have been the first time too. Maybe, Harry thought, Snape had been too drunk to remember, but did that make things better or worse?

Harry made his way through his lessons with an automatic ease. Describing a technique, demonstrating it and then letting the students try it. Then set an essay which would go over the whole thing thus testing for comprehension of the lesson. He plodded through the whole morning in this manner waiting for a message to come from Snape regarding lunch.

When Harry didn't receive a lunch message from Snape he decided to spend the time in the library instead. He took out the wand that wasn't his and summoned the Prophet articles again. Once he had sent back all the ones he had already read, Harry turned over the next edition so that he could see the front page.

'Harry Potter molested in Gryffindor dorm' sang out the headline. Harry had to read it again; this was an article from after his defection to the Slytherins. He read on hardly wanting to know the details, below the headline was a picture of Ron looking miserable with a group of laughing students behind him. 'Gryffindor Weasley outed as Harry Potter confesses to dormitory abuse' the story continued, below that was a transcript of a sexually explicit letter stated to have been written to Harry from Ron Weasley.

Harry swallowed hard as he remembered what Ron had said about a letter. He had outed Ron to the entire Wizarding world as somebody who had forced his attentions on him, that he had been persistent and morally lacking enough to ignore Harry's refusal.

Harry looked back to Ron's picture and revised his appraisal of it. He looked humiliated, broken and grief stricken. He looked like the Ron that Harry could remember though, young. It was the face that he had looked upon and fantasised about as he lay late at night with a silencing charm around his bed. Ron had never molested him, he was sure that he would have remembered that and he wouldn't have been complaining about it if he'd tried.

Harry slumped back in his chair, no wonder, he thought, that Ron had been so hostile to him. It was a wonder that he had found anybody willing to marry him at all after that kind of slur against his character. Perhaps the only person with the strength of character necessary would be Hermione. Harry thought of little Sam and it made sense, Hermione at the Ministry with an important job and Ron with a little sweetshop. If Hermione had married Ron, however, that made her firmly in his camp and not very amenable to a certain Harry Potter either.

Harry couldn't fight the feelings that were bringing him down. His life was a mess and so far, apart from the Dursleys' deaths, it seemed to be all his own doing. He had lashed out and almost ruined Ron's life. He had cast away all resemblance of a family; the Weasleys had been so good to him. They had taken him into their home so many times. He wondered where he had gone for the holidays after he had finished destroying his own life along with everyone else's.

Harry flicked through some of the remaining papers, although he didn't find anything terribly specific for a while. It seemed that he had gained acceptance with the Slytherins through Ron's humiliation. He supposed that was how he had become friends with Draco. The papers of course wouldn't tell him what on earth he had been thinking of at the time. He could see that it might have got him in closer with the Death Eaters and it would have allowed his previous friends to be safer, he had to convince himself that that was his reasoning nothing else made any sense. It was a sacrifice that had certainly not occurred to him so far, and so he was left wondering what had happened to him during the time after the Dursleys' deaths.

As Harry's boyfriend, Ron would have been the number one target next to himself, but he was safe and he hated him for it. Harry's spirits were plummeting fast, he had had only one cheery day, and that had only been because of Snape's intimate attentions. He sighed; he had to get away back to his old life, but maybe not for a while. He didn't want to go back and only have to repeat history, watching all of this unfold bit by bit. Maybe this was his chance to do things differently, if he found out as much as he could maybe he could keep Ron safe without having to sacrifice everything. If only he could unlock the secrets of Voldemort's demise he could take the memories back with him. This was Hogwarts; the information must be there for him somewhere, and if it was not written then sometime in the future he would have to get Snape to talk to him. He thought that he would search the entire castle first.

Harry knew though that he would have to take charge a little in his existence in this strange future, for his own sanity he had to gain some control.

Harry had just enough time to get back up to his quarters before he had to begin teaching again. Once there in the privacy of his own room he removed the leg braces. They didn't serve much purpose once he was sitting in his chair and he wasn't going to let Severus make him walk again, it was just too tiring and painful. Besides which, the braces were uncomfortable and bulky when he was sitting and he would be much more comfortable for much of the day without them. He took the crutches from his pocket too and put the miniaturised items away in a drawer.

When Harry attended the evening meal he found that Snape was there but he looked tired and worn. Harry had to consider that he was becoming very much attuned to Snape's moods, seeing subtleties he had never before noticed. He felt some of what Snape must have gone through over the years, sacrificing everything, looking like a complete git for the entirety of the war in order to seem as if he was a Death Eater. Everybody had believed it of him no matter how much Dumbledore had trusted him, maybe that was how it had ended up for Harry. Neither of them could shake it now, they found themselves shut away together in the evenings, the only time they could let their guard down. Snape still behaved horribly but it was hardly likely that he could remember to be any other way when there were other people watching.

Harry felt attuned to Snape and could see the despondency in his eyes, something he had never known to look for before.

"Will I see you in my quarters tonight?" Snape asked Harry alone.

"Yes," Harry replied simply, "Just as soon as I check those corridors.

When Harry reached the Headmaster's quarters he found that Snape was alone. He had sat at his desk to do some work whilst Harry had been doing his rounds but he looked up as soon as Harry entered.

"Where is Marius?" Harry asked looking around as if he might soon discover that the man had merely been hiding.

"I have given dear Marius the night off, he may spend the evening as he wishes and it may well involve a bubble bath and a bottle of wine, or so he said," Snape informed Harry in a voice that was very familiar to him even if the subject matter was not.

"No night off for me then?" Harry teased hardly believing that he was doing it.

Snape looked exhausted Harry observed, "I am tired Harry," He replied.

Harry had to wonder what was going on, Snape was alarmingly lacking in spirit, but then he had to remember that the Headmaster was twelve years older too.

Snape stood up and left his desk, he approached Harry, "Let us enjoy a pleasant evening and then we shall retire to bed."

Snape waved his wand and the relatively bright working light in the room was replaced by a subdued candle light. A soft music wafted into the space around them. Snape was really abusing his magical powers but Harry wasn't complaining. He might have ended up with only Snape for company, but at least Snape was capable of making an effort. Maybe he realised that he wasn't exactly Harry's first choice and had to make the situation less dire for him.

Snape waved his wand again and Harry felt himself swept up onto his feet, Snape wrapped his arms around him and Harry could feel the humming power of Snape's wand against his back. Harry was a little frightened since he knew that he couldn't stand like this on his own.

Harry's feet only lightly brushed the floor as Snape moved him round the room with him in swaying time to the music. It was a bit like dancing but not quite.

Harry looked up at Snape and saw the exhaustion still in his eyes and a bit of something he didn't understand. He wanted to take Snape to bed again; they always felt happier when they were in bed. Harry was pressed up against Snape and he could tell that Snape wanted to go to bed too.

"Take me to bed," Harry commanded still looking up at Snape trying to give his most persuasive look.

A hint of a smile played on Snape's lips, "Certainly."

Harry felt the hum of Snape's wand cease and he immediately slipped out of Snape's hold and fell to the floor.

He fell heavily on his hip straight onto a marble floor, the pain was instantaneous and all encompassing, and he couldn't help but cry out. Immediately he could feel Snape's arms on him, trying to pull him up but every time Snape moved him the pain was worse and he felt as if would pass out or be sick. Snape tried to move him again but Harry lashed out and shook himself free, he couldn't put his words together for anything more coherent.

Harry had his eyes closed and he felt Snape kneel beside him and wrap his arms around him rather than try to lift him up again. Harry leant into the soothing warmth and when he felt a potion phial being pressed to his lips he drank the contents without question. Almost immediately he could feel the effects of the potion, he was so very drowsy, he didn't fight it and let sleep engulf him.

When Harry woke he could tell that it was morning. He was lying in a strange bed again, but it still looked like a Hogwarts one so he didn't worry too much about it. He looked to his side and found that it was undisturbed; it appeared that he had slept alone. Harry tried to sit up so that he could see where he was but he was met with a sharp and stabbing pain in his hip that he could swear extended all the way down his leg. He was reminded of the evening before and what had happened.

He decided not to move again, not till he got some more pain potion.

This was exactly what he hadn't needed, unless someone could help him get into the chair he was stuck and he knew he had lessons.

Harry didn't have to wait long before Snape returned from breakfast. From the movements Harry could hear Snape make, he deduced that he must be in the Headmaster's quarters and the bed that he lay in could well have been Dumbledore's at one time.

When Snape came through to the bedroom to see Harry he looked drawn and pale, and, if Harry wasn't mistaken, a good deal hostile.

"What were you thinking of?" Snape demanded to know as if all Harry had done was destroy another potion for the third time in a row.

Harry was speechless and he could tell that it was annoying Snape but he couldn't help it.

Snape continued with what he had come to say without waiting any longer for Harry's reply.

"What possessed you to take the braces off, why on earth did you not warn me? Is it that difficult? Have you any idea what damage you have caused?" Snape continued to rant, "After all the rehabilitation work, I just don't understand."

"I don't want to bloody walk," Harry managed to blurt out. His outburst caused him pain and in that moment he decided that he hated Snape as much as he ever had.

"Well inform me, as one adult to another, that that is the case," Snape snapped back.

"Do not treat me as if I were still the same child I was all those years ago," Harry managed to snap back, lashing out recklessly despite the fact that it might be against what his future self would do, "As if this miserable life wasn't bad enough."

Snape approached the bed and threw Harry's wand onto the bed covers. "I shall be covering your classes for the rest of the day." He snapped before swiftly striding out of the room so Harry could say nothing further.

Harry could hardly breath, the frustration and anger welled in him so that it was almost choking him and he felt such despair that he thought that he would burst into tears. He had to try and control himself though because every movement angered his hip and he couldn't bear that either. He had not secured a pain potion and he didn't know if Marius even knew what had happened.


	10. Trophies

**Chapter 10 Trophies**

Harry lay in the bed with the frustration and anger still burning in his eyes, fighting to not allow it to turn into tears. He wanted to use his wand to summon Marius but he didn't. He wondered what on earth he would say to him anyway, Harry's lack of knowledge when it came to his future life was becoming more of a problem. He had a whole history with Snape that had bound them together and he had no idea what it was. He could only suspect that it had been set in motion after he had broken his arm.

All he wanted was to be able to get out of bed to continue his research but he couldn't move. Tears burned his eyes after all as he suddenly remembered how gentle Snape had been with him the night before, before he had ruined it. Maybe the older Harry would have remembered to tell Snape about removing the braces but he wasn't the older Harry and it was all rather too new for him. He would have given anything for an embrace from Snape now; it had rapidly turned into his only comfort.

Harry searched the room for his wheelchair but it wasn't there, he searched the bedside cabinet for it in its miniature form but he still couldn't find it. Not for the first time Harry wondered why he could never find any pain potions lying around. He was now in Snape's bedroom and he still couldn't find any. Harry wondered how often Snape actually slept in his own bed.

Harry sniffed and wiped some tears from his face and then it happened. A spark of a thought, he was in Snape's bedroom. Maybe he never slept in it but it might well contain his personal things. It occurred to him that the opportunity might never arise again. Snape might be in a better mood later; Marius might come and take him down to his own bedroom anyway. No matter what happened Snape would be gone for hours.

Harry picked up his wand, there were a number of wardrobes in the room and a chest of drawers, they couldn't all be full of robes and underpants. He opened one of the doors and was met with shelves full of files, each one bursting with sheets of parchment. He summoned one down onto the bed and began to search through it.

He spent some hours searching through Snape's papers hoping to come across something juicy or even vaguely relevant but after three boxes had found only papers relating to potions.

After the third box Harry put it away and didn't get another. He assumed that it must be getting close to lunchtime and he really hoped that Marius would notice that he was missing and come to see him. He couldn't hope that Snape's mood would have melted by then.

Somehow this older Snape was worse than the Snape he had thought he knew, at least the Snape he knew didn't pretend to be nice to him for short periods of time, at least you knew where you stood with him. Harry laughed to himself bitterly at the thought of standing with anyone. Then he remembered the dancing from the night before and how it had almost seemed like happiness.

He was just at the point where he thought he might cry again when the door opened and Marius entered the room.

Now that Marius was there Harry found himself wishing it had been Snape.

"OK, what happened, what did you do to him? " Marius asked.

Harry's anger flared, "What have I done to him?" He snapped, "I'm the one in bed here."

Marius sighed deeply, the mark of years of limitless patience, "What happened?"

Harry decided to be fair to Snape in a way that he himself couldn't fathom, "We were dancing, he was holding me up and then he set me on my feet but I wasn't wearing the braces and I hadn't told him, he just assumed they were there." Harry explained, "I fell, hence the bed."

Marius sighed heavily, "I see, that again," He said, "Have you broken it?"

Harry swallowed hard; he hadn't thought of the lengthy consequences of his actions, "I don't know," He answered truthfully.

Marius went to the fire and ordered some food from the house elves, he gave Harry a plate of sandwiches and sat himself at his bedside with the other half. Harry wondered what Snape had told him to make Marius start accusing him.

Harry ate gratefully but what he really wanted was a pain potion. He looked at Marius who seemed to be deep in thought and he felt nervous about asking for one. Before long though Marius stood up to go and Harry knew he had no choice.

"Well, I'll be off," Marius announced, "I've still got some marking I want to catch up on before the afternoon classes."

"Do you have any pain potion?" Harry blurted out before Marius could leave the room.

Marius turned, "It's wearing off after a few hours?" He asked with a worried expression.

"I haven't had one since last night at least," Harry explained.

"He didn't give you one?" Marius asked the anger flaring in his eyes, "This is ridiculous."

Marius stormed from the room slamming the door behind him and Harry waited. After what seemed like an age Harry heard the opening and slamming shut of another door and then the voices started. He couldn't make out what they were saying but Harry could hear that it was Snape and Marius and he could tell that they were arguing.

The arguing went on for what seemed like an age and when the noise finally ceased the door to the bedroom was opened. It was Marius, Harry hadn't realised how much he had been hoping for Snape till he saw that it wasn't him.

Marius approached the bed, "You haven't broken it," He told him, "Your hip dislocated as you fell and you've torn some of the ligaments, it's going to hurt more with them being scarred already, here," Marius explained holding out a phial of pain potion for him to take.

Harry knew that he had got the information and the pain potion from Snape but evidently Snape was avoiding him now. He took the potion but he was angry with Snape for treating him so horribly.

"I see he hates me too much to come in here now? What did he tell you happened?" Harry burst out to Marius.

Marius looked shocked, "He doesn't hate you."

"Really, well I feel as if he does, why does he keep me? Am I just something to have sex with? Yes, that's it."

"You're wrong Harry," Marius tried to insist.

"That would be why he won't face me now, can't have bloody sex with me like this, can he," Harry continued turning his head away so that Marius wouldn't see the tears.

Marius sighed, "I have classes now, I'll come back later."

"Thank you Draco," Harry called after Marius as he left.

Marius froze and turned to face Harry, "Don't do that," He said firmly.

Through his misery Harry had to acknowledge that although he had made an honest mistake the result was quite interesting, Marius hadn't denied that he was Draco, merely warned Harry not to call him that.

There was no further noise from the adjoining room, Snape must have left while Marius was giving him the potion. Harry tried to fight away the misery that being separated from Snape brought, only days ago he had been trying to get round to dumping Snape and he didn't like this latest development at all. How was he ever to get back home if he got himself emotionally entangled with Snape, how would he then endure being separated from him.

Harry began to think a bit more rationally once the pain potion began to work and he resumed his search through Snape's things with the confidence that Snape would probably not return and catch him at it.

For most of the afternoon he sifted through boxes and boxes of papers and was seriously wondering if he was ever going to find anything of any interest. Harry had to wonder what he had been hoping to find though, as a spy he was hardly likely to have kept a detailed diary and left it lying around for twelve years in the back of his wardrobe. He sighed at yet another box of potions supply accounts.

In frustration Harry slammed the wardrobe door shut hard with his wand, so hard in fact that the other door swung open to reveal a row of robes and a selection of items on a shelf above them. Harry raised his wand and summoned an object off the shelf.

Of all the things he had thought he might find he was finally surprised, the first object he pulled from the shelf was a Muggle handgun. Beyond the initial surprise he had to think about why this should bother him. While he was thinking about why Snape might have a gun he reached out with his wand and took the only other item off the shelf. It was a jewellery box.

Harry could only stare in shock at the jewellery box, it was exactly like his Aunt Petunia's box and inside the jewellery was all hers too. Harry might have imagined that Snape could have taken the box for some bizarre reason but there was the matter of the gun also. Now he remembered why the gun should be bothering him, his relatives had been shot and killed and Harry knew that Snape had been in the area. It seemed too bizarre to be true though, that it had happened so long ago and so close to the time Harry remembered, Snape must have gone straight back to the Dursleys after seeing to his broken arm. Why would a man who hated him so much do that?

Harry handled the gun gently, there had to be another explanation but he had no idea what it was. He sent the gun and the jewellery back to the wardrobe and wondered whether he should continue looking or not, now it seemed that he might find out more than he wanted to know.

He'd had enough for one day, he decided, there was always tomorrow and he wasn't going anywhere fast. If Marius tried to take him back to his own rooms he would just protest that it would hurt too much. Then again, the jewellery box hadn't gone right back on the shelf even though he had pushed it with his wand, there was something else there.

He moved the jewellery box to the side and probed with his wand till he found an old box, it was the kind of box a wand would be bought in. When Harry had managed to get it onto his lap he found that the label was suggesting that it was the original box for Snape's wand but it still rattled as if it had a wand inside. Harry opened the box fully expecting to find a duplicate that Snape kept for some reason. The wand didn't match the box though, it was a perfect match for Dumbledore's wand but Harry had no way of knowing if it was definitely his or not, not instantly.

Dumbledore was dead, Snape was Headmaster and Snape had what seemed to be a trophy cupboard, artefacts collected from his kills, or maybe Harry was getting overemotional and misinterpreting the significance of the items.

Harry decided that he had definitely had enough for one day, he returned the wand to the wardrobe. As it was the pain potion was working perfectly so he decided to close his eyes for a while before it wore off again.

Harry was woken to the sound of more arguing coming from the Headmaster's other rooms, he assumed it must be Snape and Marius again. Harry's head hurt now, somehow his nap had only served to give him a headache. The arguing went on and on until Harry was both hungry and in pain again. He fervently hoped that Marius would just give up on Snape and come through to see him.

After what seemed like hours later the shouting stopped and after a few moments more Marius opened the bedroom door and entered.

He seemed subdued and very tired now and went about getting Harry a pain potion and some food without saying much.

"Can you let him be now?" Harry asked Marius, seeing that the arguing wasn't getting him anywhere and might well be encouraging Snape's stubbornness.

"Yes, if you want," Marius agreed, "Just let me know if you want to go back to your rooms, ok?"

"I'll brave it out a little longer, I don't know what it would be like if I tried to move."

Marius' words seemed rather final, as if he had given up too.

Marius ate with Harry but left as soon as he had finished, he already wasted too much of his day fighting with Snape and he needed to catch up some work. As he passed through Snape's living area Snape held out a drink to him.

"I am not going to spend the evening here pretending like nothing is the matter, you are a very silly man and I have work to do," Marius snapped making to leave.

"I feel so helpless," Snape broke down at last.

"And he thinks you hate him," Marius said as he left the Headmaster's chambers.

Harry lay listening to the silence and wished that he hadn't asked for it, the complete lack of sound was unbearable. He knew that Snape must be there, he was never anywhere else after the evening meal, but there wasn't even the gentle sound of conversation that an evening would normally have. Harry was just drifting off to sleep when the door finally opened again.

It was Snape, now that the moment had come Harry could only stare at him, he hadn't thought about what he was going to say should the man decide to visit him at last. He definitely didn't know what he was going to do now that he had found the trophies. Harry looked up at Snape and found that he looked bereft; he almost staggered forward and slumped onto his knees on the floor beside the bed. His head fell onto the mattress in a sea of black hair and his hands caught up fistfuls of blanket. His shoulders began to shake but he was silent.

Harry found himself putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I have tried everything, every single thing over the years," Snape mumbled into the bed sheets at last, "I cannot make this any better, I cannot cure you, I have failed."

Harry didn't know what to say so he waited and allowed Snape to keep talking if he wanted to.

"I should have known that he wouldn't let you go free even when he knew he was doomed and you had defeated him, I should have stopped it. If I couldn't stop that, what was the point of my being there. You could have got yourself into that mess on your own, you didn't need me standing there pretending to be one of them. Of all the things I have done, I can only think of all the things that made no difference at all with overwhelming regret."

Harry supposed that this was what Marius had meant when he wanted them to talk about the war, Harry had no idea how he was going to make it through the conversation. When he thought of things that Snape might have done, all he could think of were the Dursleys and Dumbledore, Snape might mean something else entirely.

"I tried to save Dumbledore first, I failed at that."

"You didn't fail me," Harry tried to claim.

"Oh, but I did," Snape said looking up at Harry with grief stricken eyes, "Those braces where the best I could come up with and you hate them. Your injuries are unaffected by every type of magic known to the wizarding world, apart of course from the magic that caused them."

"That wasn't your fault."

"But you hate your miserable life, I should have done something," Snape continued.

Harry wondered how he had ended up comforting Snape, "Should have, should have, I should have jumped out of the way."

"That's ridiculous Potter, it was too quick," Snape said, at least pausing from his wailing.

"So how is it your job to fix everything? I don't care about walking," Harry said while he had Snape's attention, "I don't want to be in pain and I would like it if you would be civil to me, even in public, if you want to do something start with those two."

Snape looked up at Harry, "I can make the pain go away, are you sure?" he asked.

Harry felt curious about why he should need to be asked twice but he nodded, "I am sure," He answered.

Snape still looked apprehensive as he stood up. He folded the covers back and ran his hand up beneath Harry's nightshirt. Harry lay watching Snape move, fighting with himself not to look as shy and embarrassed as he felt. He was sober and not turned on, Snape was touching him in a clinical manner, it made a surprising difference. When Snape withdrew his hand he levitated Harry slightly and eased him over onto his front. He then reached underneath his shirt and began to prod slightly in various places with his finger. Snape was very close to Harry's painful hip and he grabbed a fistful of blankets expecting that at any moment he might be prodded into intense pain. If he could have shrunk from Snape's touch he would have found it impossible not to.

The pain didn't come and Snape replaced his finger with the tip of his wand, Harry assumed he had found the right spot for whatever it was that he was doing. With one dim flash of lilac light and a sharp piercing twinge in his lower back, all the pain disappeared from his left leg. So did all the sensation.

Snape didn't turn him back over onto his back immediately and Harry had the chance to bury his head in the pillows as he quickly tried to process this latest development. He didn't know whether it was permanent or not but Harry had no feeling in his leg at all. Now he knew why Snape had asked him if he was sure.

When Snape did turn him over he gave Harry a few more pillows so that he could sit up. Pulling himself up to let Snape place the pillows behind him was even harder to manage than it had been before and he couldn't help worrying that Snape was settling him in for some lengthy bed rest.

"I want to sit in my chair," Harry blurted out as Snape turned away from him.

Snape faced Harry and sighed, "You did dislocate it you know, just because you can't feel it now..."

Harry was in no mood to be getting controlled by Snape and the man was in a reasonably pliable state of mind, "I can hardly damage it any more sitting in my chair can I?" He reasoned.

Snape's expression was soft and exhausted, he almost smiled wearily, "No, you can't as long as you stay in the chair, you do know it will be different don't you?"

Harry smiled knowing that he was getting on the move again soon, he shrugged, "Of course, but you'll tell me how won't you?"

"Yes," Snape said with an attempt at sternness, "And you will follow my instructions."

Harry nodded to show he agreed and Snape approached him again.

Snape pulled the covers back, "But first we will have something of an evening together, it is too late for new things tonight, do you agree?"

"OK," Harry said, he could see from the look in Snape's eyes that the storm had passed and he wanted to be close to him again.

Snape took a blanket from the wardrobe, draped it over Harry's legs and shrank him. Harry found himself being carried through to the living room where the whiskey and the chaise longue awaited them.


End file.
